


Somewhere in the Middle of Nowhere

by jetreadsstuff



Series: Home is where i'm with you [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Brothers AU, College AU, F/M, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), I Don't Even Know, M/M, Multi Chapter, Platonic Kidge, Platonic Relationships, Swearing, apollo the ferret, broganes, everyone is bonding, gay indie movie au, get in the fucking car keith, i'm so tired it's like two in the morning, is that even a tag?, keith is really fricken into marianas tench, klance, lil angst for flavor, okay like a costco container of angst, platonic hance, road trip au, shp pidge, wingman hunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:38:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9387506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetreadsstuff/pseuds/jetreadsstuff
Summary: Keith has hardly left the house in like, six months. His brother, Shiro, apparently takes issue with this. Which is why Keith finds himself spending the start of his summer trapped in a death trap of a car with four people he barely knows, his brother and a ferret that's trying to kill him, on his way to a concert event across the country. This is not how Keith had planned his summer to go, that's for sure.





	1. Chapter One: The Beginning of the End

_I've learned to slam on the brake_  
_Before I even turn the key_  
_Before I make the mistake_ _  
_ Before I lead with the worst of me

 

* * *

Keith awoke to his ringtone loudly blaring through the apartment. On the fifth ring, he gave up trying to ignore it and reached blindly for the phone on his nightstand. He didn’t even bother checking the caller ID.

“Yeah?” he grumbled into the phone. It was at this point he glanced at the clock. 7:14 am. 7 am on a Saturday. 7 am on a Saturday on the first day of summer. Keith wanted to die.

“Keith!” Shiro sounded almost surprised to hear Keith’s tired voice on the other end of the call. Keith guessed Shiro had been trying to get a hold of him for a while now.

“Hi,” Keith yawned, “Hi.”

“Hey!” Shiro sounded, in Keith’s opinion, way too damn chipper for someone who had been up before 7, and willingly nonetheless.

“What’s up?” Keith asked, groaning as he climbed out of bed.

“Could I come over?” Shiro asked.

“What? It’s seven o'clock on a Saturday Shiro. I wasn’t even planning on being awake for another hour and a half.” Keith pointed out.

“Oh, sorry,” Keith could hear Shiro shuffle around, “I kind of...forgot you don’t get up this early anymore.”

“S’all good.” Keith listened to the static on the other end of the line for a while, and could feel himself slowly drifting until-

“Keith!” Shiro snapped into the phone.

“What?”

“So?”

“So, what?”

“So can I come over?”

“Shiro….”

“I know, I know. But you’re up anyway now so….”

“Are you stopping anywhere on the way?”

“Um...I guess I was thinking about dropping by the cafe.”

“Grab me a Mr. Pibb.”

“They don’t have soda there. It’s a cafe, Keith.”

“Coffee then. Just get me caffeine.”

“You hate coffee.”

“Free food is free food. Speaking of, how am I supposed to enjoy my coffee without coffee cake?”

“Dammit Keith. I’m a college student. I had ramen noodles for every meal last week.I have stuff to save up for, and you’re running me dry here. ”

“Hey now, who woke who up on a Saturday and invited himself over?”

“...Touche.”

* * *

 

 

It was approximately seven forty five when Shiro knocked on the door, scaring the shit out of Keith’s cat who promptly clawed the shit out of Keith’s lap, waking him up. Needless to say, this morning wasn’t going so well.

“Hey.” Keith mumbled, leading Shiro into the small apartment.

“Keith!” Shiro greeted him, pulling him into a giant bear hug. “It’s been way too long.”

“Shiro, you saw me last week.” Keith pointed out.

“More like three weeks ago.”

“Whatever.” Keith yawned.

“So,” Shiro took off his coat and turned to face his little brother, “How’s mom?”

“Don’t you talk to her, like, every day?”

“Yeah, but you know mom. She wouldn’t tell me if her head fell off.”

“Point taken,” Keith seemed to consider the question for a few minutes, “she’s fine, being all motherly and whatnot. She, uh, seems a little busier at work lately, but she’s fine.”

“Good,” Shiro took a sip from his coffee and promptly handed Keith a cup. “I asked for soy milk, and the barista just rolled her eyes and snorted so, uh, don’t forget to take your lactose pills.”

“Number one reason I hate coffee, for the record.” Keith took a sip and scrunched his nose up a little.

“You didn’t have to ask for coffee.”

“True.” Keith reached for the coffee cake in the bag. Cinnamon apple, his favorite, and he made a mental note to pay back Shiro later.

“So….What are your plans for the summer?”

“What are my plans for summer?” Keith repeated, “Other than playing video games and job hunting, pretty much nothing. You?”

“Well, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh, so you came over to tell me about your summer plans. It all falls into place.”

“So, you know how my friend Allura’s in a band?” Shiro asked, ignoring him.

“The same Allura who’s amazing and wonderful in every single aspect of her personality?”

“Yeah, her.” Shiro smiled brightly, not detecting a hint of sarcasm in Keith’s voice. Keith almost envied Shiro’s optimism. Okay, a little more than almost.

“You’ve mentioned the band once or twice.”

“She made it in this big showcase concert in New York City.”

“Holy shi-That’s amazing, Shiro!”

“I know! And, I guess her dad runs the showcase and managed to snag some tickets for me and the gang!”

“Oh.” Keith’s enthusiasm faded ever so slightly, knowing that he wasn’t part of ‘The Gang’ Shiro spoke of so frequently. _You could have been,_ he thought to himself bitterly. “That’s...great.” Shiro seemed to register the falter in Keith’s smile.

“I would have totally gotten you a ticket, too.” He assured Keith, “But five tickets was already pushing it.” five tickets. _There are four other people that Shiro would rather hang out with. One of them was a high schooler for god’s sake._

“No, it’s fine.” Keith smiled genuinely again. _Why would I want to spend two weeks with four people I barely know anyway?_ And for a solid minute, he actually believed himself, too.

* * *

 

The following weeks were absolute hell. On the week of the road trip, tension was at it’s highest. Shiro was pacing around the room, dusting things that didn’t need to be dusted, fighting with himself about what clothes to wear at the event and which to just wear on the road trip. Everything had to be absolutely PERFECT. God forbid his amazing friend sees that he’s HUMAN. Shiro sounded like a fucking broken record.

“Matt, have you seen my grey shirt? The one with the coca-cola logo across the front? Was it washed last week?”

“Matt, do you would like this one? This cologne? I don’t want to smell like shit at the concert.” Matt this, Matt that, as if he wasn’t the absolute worst person for Shiro to ask, anyway, especially considering Shiro's massively embarrassing crush on Allura's favorite ex-bandmate. And the thing about Shiro’s stress, was that even if the stress had nothing to do with you, he would subconsciously pass it on to you. Everyone was feeling the pressure.

Matt was excited for the trip, he really was, but he _lived_ with Shiro. Which meant he had to deal with Shiro’s stress 24/7. And somewhere along the way, something about the final evaluations, something about how Shiro was stressed, something about how _everyone_ was stressed, that just snapped something in Matt’s system, and he woke up the morning of the road trip with a massive migraine.

* * *

 

“Shiro, I’m sorry, I just can’t. I’m running a fever. I threw up half an hour ago. Combine that with my car sickness? Yeah, not gonna happen.” Matt had to admit, he was sort of half relieved to have an excuse not to go with this stress machine.

“Shit.” was all Shiro could manage to say. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“I’m really sorry, dude.” Matt coughed, “If I was up to it I would go in a heartbeat.”

“It’s not your fault, Matt. It’s just. Those tickets are expensive man. Where the hell am I going to get another person to go on such short notice?” Shiro asked. And just like that, almost as if the idea occurred to him right as the words left his mouth, a small, relieved and excited smile broke out on his face.

“Did you think of someone?” Matt asked.

“As a matter of fact,” Shiro grinned, “I just thought of the perfect person to go.”

“That’s great.” Matt sighed, relieved. “Send me pictures while you’re on the trip, though.”

“I will, I will.”

“Especially potential valuable blackmail material on Pidge I’ll be missing out on.”

“I’m sure she’ll destroy the photos long before they get to you, but I’ll try,” Shiro chuckled, “I should probably get going, traffic is gonna be pretty bad on the way to everyone’s places.”

“Yeah.”

“Get some rest. Take it easy. I swear if I get back and you are writing your resume-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“I’m having my mom bring you soup.”

“Please no. I love her, but she was always so overbearing.”

“She needs something to keep her occupied.” Shiro pointed out.

“If she brings the baby albums, I’m not responsible for Pidge winding up with a naked picture of you again!” Matt shouted as Shiro left the apartment.

* * *

 

 

Everyone was disappointed that Matt wasn’t coming along to say the least. Hunk was in a slightly less chipper mood than he would have been, and Lance had (apparently) been looking forward to swapping blackmail (a common theme in the group, Shiro noticed) with Matt. As if Lance needed an _excuse_ to complain.

When they picked up Pidge, she immediately  slumped herself in the backseat with a certain level of melancholy, having been excited to spend time with her brother. Even her ferret seemed to have an extra bitter attitude, not that it made much of a difference to Shiro, whom he had been referring to the pet as a devil weasel.

“Did you have to bring….that. Thing. With?” Shiro asked, as the devil ferret snarled at him.

“Apollo is not a thing, first of all.” Pidge snapped.

“No he’s not, he’s the most handsome ferret in the whole world, yes he is!” Hunk said in a baby voice that was far too adorable for anyone to be annoyed by. “You missed your daddy, didn’t you?”

“Second off, dad wouldn’t let me leave him behind. In his words, he didn’t want to spend two weeks hiding his socks from the demon ferret, a term I assume he picked up from you, after I told him that keeping him in a cage for two weeks straight was not an option.” Pidge stopped to scratch the ferret on his head, “Third and most importantly, he’s just as much a member of our group as me or you. So, in the words of Aristotle, kindly fuck off.”

“You missed the turn,” Lance pointed out, staring at the largely outdated and comedically sized map.

“Oh. Yeah. Did I forget to mention.”

“Oh dear god no.” Lance groaned, knowing exactly what was coming.

“We’re taking a sliiiight detour. I needed to pick something up real quick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've fixed the format, I hope that the fic at least looks appealing. 
> 
> Here's the song that I used for the opener:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CNhD6h7VuaI
> 
> My tumblr is moonsofmercury.tumblr.com if you want to come say hi! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Strap yourselves in, it's gonna be one heck of a ride.


	2. Chapter 2: Hitting the Highway

_When everything gets lonely I can be my own best friend_

_I'll grab a coffee and the paper; have my own_

_Conversations_

_With the sidewalk and the pigeons and my window_

_Reflection_

_The mask I polish in the evening, by the morning looks_

_Like shit._

 

Approximately thirty minutes later, with constant complaining on Lance’s end, Shiro pulled up to his mother’s apartment building.

“Does Keith really have to come? You couldn’t get someone better? Say, a rabid raccoon, to join us?” Lance grumped.

“We already have one rabid weasel on board, why would we need two?” Shiro joked, climbing out of the car.

“Traitor!” Lance shouted, even though he knew it fell on deaf ears. “Inviting my rival on the biggest road trip of our young lives. Can you believe him?”

“Your….Rival?” Hunk raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes!” Lance threw his arms up, smacking his hands on the ceiling. “Keith, or whatever, is always trying to one up me.”

“We don’t even hang out with him that often. You’ve had, what, a grand total of four conversations with the dude, and he’s your rival?” Hunk pointed out.

“First off, there were several more conversations than that, Hunk, not even counting the intense trash talk.” Lance argued. “Secondly, yes! Remember the beer pong tournament of December ‘15?”

“Oh, God,” Hunk groaned, “not that story again.”

“The beer pong tournament of December ‘15?” Pidge echoed, interest piqued, “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that story.”

“Please no.” Hunk rolled his eyes, “Don’t get him started on that.”

“I’d love to hear the story of how Keith whooped your butt,” Pidge chimed in, shit-eating grin spreading on her face.

“Don’t take the bait, please don’t take the bait.” Hunk mumbled to himself.

“Oh, he so did not whoop my butt. He just got lucky.” Lance protested, ignoring Hunk, “I totally had his ass until the last minute.”

“Sure. Whatever you say Lance,” Pidge said in a mocking tone.

“It was the freshman Christmas party of 2015, right, and there I was, ready to kick Keith’s ass.”

“Good lord, here we go.”

* * *

 

At approximately seven in the morning, there was a knock at the door of Keith and his mom’s apartment. Several knocks, actually. They started out soft, but quickly grew loud and obnoxious. Mrs Shirogane, not wanting Keith to wake up, sprang out of bed to answer the door. When she actually saw who was _behind_ the door, her grin stretched ear to ear as she brought her son into a giant hug.

“Takashi!” She whisper shouted, “It’s been too long!”

“Yeah. Sorry about that. College and everything,” Shiro hugged his mother back tightly.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize.” Mrs S finally released him. “I am very happy to see you. That said….”

“It’s way too early for me to be dropping by unannounced.” Shiro finished for her.

“Only a little,” she laughed.

“Well, I was just about leave for the trip with the gang,” Shiro started.

“Oh, yes. ‘The’ trip. Are you going to take a lot of pictures for me?” Mrs. S quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, Matt woke up with a migraine this morning, and-”

“Matt’s sick? Is he running a fever? Does he need soup? I’m bringing him soup. What’s his favorite kind, again? Wait, don’t tell me. Hm. Chicken noodle?”

“Matt should be fine in a couple of days. At least, that’s what he says. He’s running a slight fever, 103, but he insists that he doesn’t need to see a doctor. Oh! And tomato soup.” He explained.

“Tomato!” Mrs Shirogane grinned, “I can bring him some later, along with some snacks.”

“Please, Mom, I am begging you not to bring the photo albums.”

“But he used to love it when I showed him the photo albums!” she protested, “When you two first moved in together-”

“Mom. Focus,” Shiro said in a warning tone.

“Right. Focused,” She echoed.

“So now, I find myself with an extra ticket to the festival. And since Keith didn’t really have any plans for the summer, I thought I’d take him instead.”

“What an excellent idea!” Mrs S clapped her hands together, “But...Well, you know your brother.”

“Oh, I know. Some heavy duty blackmailing will have to go down,” he chuckled.

“Takashi…” Mrs. Shirogane warned.

“He’s gonna have so much fun. You know it, I know it, hell, even _he_ knows it.”

“Language!” Mrs S snapped, as if Shiro was still a little kid.

“But he just needs a little push to get him to go in the first place,” Shiro pointed out.

“Right you are. But now I expect _twice_ the vacation photos for my album,” she wagged her finger at him jokingly.

Shiro cracked a smile at that, and swung open Keith’s bedroom door. Keith’s eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open.

“C’mon, lazybones, wake up!” Shiro flicked the lights on and off rapidly. Keith only groaned in protest. Shiro’s next plan was to rip the duvet off his body, revealing a pale, scrawny half naked boy. Still nothing, although Shiro made a mental note to get Keith a pair of pajamas for Christmas, and to bleach his eyeballs, for that matter.

“Didn’t want to have to do this,” Shiro sighed, reaching into his pocket. “Ladies and gentlemen! In my hands I hold the greatest blackmail against Keith Shirogane to ever exist!”

“What the hell are you going on about?” Keith shouted, eyes still closed.

“Language!” was heard coming from the other room.

“I’m a grown ass adult, Ma!” Keith pointed out, eyes now open.

“Debatable.” Shiro mumbled.

“What is in your hands?” Keith demanded, sitting up in bed.

“What? This? Just an incredibly embarrassing photo of my little brother.” Shiro held the photo closer to him. Keith examined the photo, and instantly felt burning rage. There, in all its horrific glory, was the worst photo in existence of Keith. It dated way back to 2012, when Keith was a hormonal thirteen year old.

His hair was arguably worse looking than it is today. He stood in front of a wall of pictures of the love of his life, the lead singer of Marianas Trench, Josh Ramsey. He was wearing oversized Harry Potter glasses, and decked out in an outfit straight out of their “Desperate Measures” music video, in which Josh recreated the iconic scene from Risky business.

That’s right, Keith’s outfit consisted of a bright ass pink button down, socks, sunglasses, and underwear. Oh, good god, the underwear. Not the classic tighty whiteys, oh no, instead he wore black boxers, which wouldn’t be too bad save for the GIANT batman logo on the front. Keith was jamming out on an air guitar and grinning like he was the coolest kid ever. Keith’s jaw dropped.

“How the hell did you get that?” Keith gritted his teeth.

“That would be my bad, sweetie!” Mrs S shouted from the other room.

“Betrayal!” Keith roared, “Again, what the hell do you want?”

“Well, Matt got sick and couldn’t come to the concert-” Shiro started.

“No,” Keith interrupted.  
“Keith.” Shiro protested.

“No! I’m not gonna drop everything to come to some lame ass concert with my brother and four people I hang out with, like, twice a month.”

“But I know you’d like the music. And the tickets are really expensive so I thought I’d ask you.”

“Ask?” Keith snorted “You are _coercing_ me, Shiro.”

“I’m not coercing you, Keith,” Shiro insisted, “I’m just saying that your options are go to a ridiculously awesome concert and meet your brother’s friends, who, by the way, would just love to see you. Or you could stay home and play Overwatch with mom for two weeks.”

“You make a compelling case with Overwatch,” Keith rubbed his chin.

“And, if you do choose that, there’s a slight chance this bad boy winds up in Lance’s grubby hands,” Shiro waved the photo in front of Keith.

“That asshole? Winds up with the worst photo of me ever?”

“The price of the photo is an awesome vacation. What are you to do?” Shiro sighed in a sarcastic tone.

“Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not going to be happy about it.”

* * *

 

 

“And at this point I had won three games of beer pong already so I was on a fucking roll. But keep in mind that at this point I had maybe, like, four beers. So my motor skills weren’t the best, alright?” Lance admitted, “And so I mean, can you really even call it winning if the other player is intoxicated? I think not! And then Dr. Mullet shows up all better than everyone else and challenges me to a game.”

“He didn’t challenge you, though. You trash talked him and made him play you, which he only agreed to do in the first place to get you to shut yer yap,” Hunk pointed out.

“Let me tell it! Anyway, where were we before I was so rudely interrupted?” Lance glared at Hunk, “Oh, yes! So anyway Keith was all high and mighty and girls and guys alike were hitting on him. So, like, enough is enough! He was ahead by two points and he scored a third, which is when this really hot guy said something to him and he laughed, and of course all I could see was white hot rage, so I threw the ball at his face. Afterwhich I was disqualified which was totally unfair given that I was totally about to make a comeback. But I put toothpaste on Keith’s toilet seat so who’s the true victor here?”

“That is not how that story ended,” Hunk said in a singsong voice.

“What do you mean?” Lance asked through gritted teeth, “that is so the end of the story.”

“Whatever, bro,” Hunk rolled his eyes and his attention went back to Apollo.

“Now I have to hear the de-Lance-ified version!” Pidge grinned, “Please. Do it for Apollo.”

“Okay, okay. So basically the only things that Lance is remembering correctly is the fact that he was winning until Keith, the laugh, the beers, the hot guy and the toothpaste. And even the toothpaste is wrong because it wasn’t even Keith’s dorm. But I’m sure you taught Selena Balmer a lesson. Also, Lance was drunk as balls. Which means extra flirty, karaoke belting, poor life decision making Lance.”

“I resent that!” Lance shouted.

“Okay, so, Keith was not even in the vicinity of giving a shit. Poor dude just wanted to get a hot guy’s number and enjoy the party. Then Lance started trash talking him, and the poor bastard fell for it.”

“Stop painting Keith as the good guy here!” Lance yelled.

“So hot guy, think his name was Mason, was still flirting because he wanted a piece of the Keith pie and-”

“That is literally the dorkiest fucking thing that’s ever come out of your mouth, Hunk. But continue,” Pidge chimed in.

“Mason really wanted the digits, so he’s flirting his ass off and at one point he said something that sold Keith, who smiled really big. Lance then went red as a tomato with jealousy, and just fucking chucked the ping pong ball at Keith’s face, and chipped one of his teeth.”

“The end!” Lance shouted desperately.

“Keith was beyond pissed off, not to mention in pain, so he chased Lance around the party. Lance got dizzy I guess, so he like, fell down and vomited on the floor. In front of everyone.”

“Oh my God!” Pidge was howling with laughter, “No wonder Keith thinks you’re an ass!”

“Not. What. Happened.” Lance protested.

“Too late. Hunk’s version is now ingrained into my brain.” Pidge snorted.

“Hunk’s opinion was biased!” Lance insisted, “Ask anyone else that was there!”

It was at this point that Shiro and Keith finally approached the Shitstain that Shiro called his car, saving Lance from this cringe fest. Keith climbed into the back row next to Pidge, who was laughing hysterically.

“What’s so funny?” Keith asked as Shiro started the car.

“Oh, nothing. Lance was just telling me about how he whooped your ass at beer pong that one time,” Pidge answered, flashing a shit-eating grin to Lance, who looked ready to combust.

“What?” Keith quirked an amused brow, “that is not what happened.”

“Well, I’d love to hear your side of the story, Keith.” Pidge smiled, “We’ve got plenty of time.”

* * *

 

Not bringing your headphones on a road trip with four people, Keith learned, was a ridiculously awful decision. Whoever was driving got to pick the music, which meant that Keith had to endure Shiro’s strange obsession with classical music. As if Keith needed any more proof that his brother was a pretentious dork. Oh, and the car didn’t have an auxiliary chord, which meant that not only was classical music playing throughout the car, it also was playing out of a shitty phone speaker, only adding to the bizarro ambiance the trip was carrying. And by bizarro ambiance, Keith meant that everyone on board seemed to be refusing eye contact with him.

Shiro was driving, which was a feasible enough excuse. But everyone else? Lance was knitting, a hobby so homely Keith didn't think Lance would partake in it, and Keith could swear he was knitting in an oddly angry fashion. Hunk was reading, which did not seem like a fun road trip activity. Keith was getting nauseous just looking at him reading. And Pidge?  Pidge was off in her own little world, staring out the window, headphones on, not even close to giving a shit about what the other passengers were doing.

Not only that, but the car stank. Bad. Like toxic combination of vomit, beer, and Axe cologne. Like, no amount of Febreze was going to fix this unholy abomination level stink. Oh, and there was some sort of feral rodent loose in the car.

Well, maybe not a feral rodent. More like Pidge’s ferret. He almost inquired to Pidge about why her ferret was on this highway to hell, but her headphones were blaring techno music loud enough for Keith to follow, (a fucking fantastic remix of the ghostbusters theme, to be exact,) so he didn't bother. Her lack of eye contact wasn’t exactly lightening the atmosphere either. God, could this trip get any weirder?

Just as Keith was getting used to the insufferable classical music, Shiro pulled up to an ancient looking gas station.

“Alright, everyone. We’re stopping for gas,” Shiro announced to the car.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Lance mumbled.

“Anyway, we’re switching drivers. So, everyone needs to get out of the car,” Shiro continued, ignoring Lance, “If you have to use the restroom, do it now.”

“What, you don’t want us to get out of the car before we start pissing and shitting on everything?” Keith snorted. The joke earned a glare from his brother and a short lived chuckle from Pidge. Shiro didn’t have a retort, so instead, he responded by slamming the car door behind him as he got out.

“Oh, man,” Pidge said as everyone climbed out of the car, “that was pretty good.”

“Thanks. I mean, it wasn’t that funny,” Keith swatted at a bug on his arm.

“Oh, that’s right, he doesn’t know.” A devilish grin spread across Pidge’s face.

“I don’t know what?” Keith asked, clueless. An audible groan was heard from Shiro.

“We have elected to start referring to Shiro’s car as The Shitstain,” Pidge explained, “on account of her stench and color.”

“The smell is Matt’s fault, first of all,” Shiro interjected, “second of all, the color thing doesn’t even make sense.”

“Oh yes, it does!” Lance called from the other side of the car.

“No, it doesn’t,” Shiro finished filling up the tank, “shit is brown. My Schwartzy is green.” He said this as if this was an argument he had lost with them about fifty times.

“Brownish green, technically,” Hunk corrected.

“How dare you. My baby is a beautiful shade of green,” Shiro gasped. _Gasped._

“Use your fucking eyes. This scrap heap is baby. Shit. Green.” Pidge gestured dramatically.

“Whatever. Lance, you’re driving,” Shiro grumped as he plopped himself down in the passenger seat.  
“I was next!” Pidge protested, but Shiro had already closed the door. She turned on her heel to face Keith again. “He’ll get over it. Anyway, thanks. We are gonna get great mileage out of that joke.”

“As opposed to the vehicle itself,” Keith mumbled, climbing into the third row. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

* * *

 

 

Keith was wrong. Lance’s taste in music was, believe it or not, even cringier than Shiro’s. Lance was, apparently, all about musical soundtracks. The first five notes of “Beautiful” blared through the speakers, and that was five notes too many for Pidge.

“Not Heathers, Lance. Anything but Heathers,” She begged.

“Fine,” Lance huffed, selecting a different playlist, “how about Rent?”

“No!” The entire car chorused.

“Trying again. Next to Normal?”

“No!”

“Fun home? The color purple? Wicked?” He desperately searched, which still wasn’t impressing the masses.

“No musicals. You can listen to literally anything else, just. Please. No musicals,” Shiro begged.

“Well, it is your car. Your car, your rules.” Lance said in a suspiciously calm tone.

“Oh, dear God. What have you unleashed?” Hunk whined, having had to stare down the business end of this exact conversations back at University. Everyone rolled their eyes, assuming that anything would be better than musical soundtracks. And then, quiet as a whisper, the first lyrics of the most annoying pop song in existence began beating through the speaker.

* * *

 

 

After about the fifth repeat of this hellsong, Keith got curious as to why Lance was the only one who hadn’t gotten sick of this nausea inducing peppy tune. In fact, he only seemed to be gaining steam. At this point, Lance was practically screaming at the top of his lungs.

 _“WE’RE CALIFORNIA GIRLS WE’RE UNFORGETTABLE! DAISY DUKES BIKINIS ON TOP! FINE FRESH FIERCE,”_ Lance screeched.

“What is his fucking deal with this song? How does he not have a massive case of earworm? Or a massive migraine, for that matter,” Keith asked to nobody in particular.

“Lance grew up in California,” Hunk explained, having to shout over the noise, “This was his and his older sister’s favorite song. I’m pretty sure he could listen to it days on end and not get sick of it.” Keith groaned.

“I would like to point out that if you guys had just let me listen to the Heathers soundtrack, like I _asked_ , none of this would have ever happened!” Lance pointed out, as the song started again for a sixth encore. He wondered how long this was gonna go on, when suddenly, he realized Lance’s plan. In true Salt and Pepper Diner fashion, the song was to be played on an endless grating loop until someone else was behind the wheel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey *finger guns* thanks for reading  
> The song that leads into this fic:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5aZh261KZWI  
> The Desperate Measures Music Video (you will thank me later)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jTiIAW7qmGU  
> The AWESOME remix to the ghostbusters theme (by the living tombstone):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ap9LN1kFb98  
> My tumblr URL is moonsofmercury.tumblr.com if you wanna come say hi!  
> Feel free to leave a comment and, again, thanks so much for reading.


	3. Speed Bumps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah, angst!
> 
> Alternatively titled "Hunk yOU LITTLE MATCHMAKING SHIT"

_Every memory comes on_

_When I hear that old song_

_That we used to sing_

_With the words all wrong_

_I remember the faces_

_And familiar places_

_And I sing along_

_But Acadia is gone_

Lance had eventually played the song so many times, Keith was pretty sure the lyrics had been drilled into his brain permanently. He could recite them all on a whim, at a moment’s notice. That was how damn catchy this ridiculous song was. After hearing the song on an endless loop for what felt like hours (realistically it was probably about half an hour) the song finally, finally stopped as Shiro told Lance to pull over.

“Shiro, not that I’m complaining that the car is stopping and we don’t have to listen to that God forsaken song anymore, but why _are_ we stopping?” Keith asked, apparently never having heard that expression about the horse’s mouth.

“We need gas,” Shiro shrugged, “and since there’s no gas station anywhere around here, I’m just gonna have us stop to fill it up with one of the jerry cans in the back.”

“Well, that’s all fine and good, but isn’t this, I dunno, illegal?” Hunk demanded.

“I’m not exactly sure, but, I mean, it’s really the only way to go about it with this car,” Shiro pointed out, “There’s not gonna be a gas station every twenty six minutes.”

“We’re committing a possible felony because you refuse to acknowledge that your car is a heap of garbage?” Pidge cocked an eyebrow, looking up from her magazine.

“Schwartz is not a heap of garbage. Now, everyone out of the car,” Shiro commanded, climbing out of the car himself.

“Ugh,” Keith groaned, reluctantly getting out of the car, “do we really have to switch drivers every single time we stop for gas?”

“As a matter of fact, we do. We wouldn’t have to if someone,” Pidge gestured at Lance, “hadn’t whined and complained our entire last road trip about not getting as much driving time as everyone else.”

“Plus you could really use the driving practice,” Lance interjected.

“Excuse you, I am an excellent driver,” Pidge protested.

“Tell that to the poor tree you murdered on our way to the LBC last year,” Lance pointed out.

“Are you seriously incapable of not bringing up that road trip?” Pidge smirked.

“I’m with her,” Hunk chirped, “I love you, buddy, but that Spring break is on your mind like, 24/7. It wasn’t even that great a trip.”

“It was the best two weeks of my life, I will have you know,” Lance smiled fondly at the memory, “you’re just remembering it bad because you got stung by a jellyfish and couldn’t leave the house for three days.”

“Guys,” Shiro interrupted, “if we want to stay on schedule, we’re gonna have to keep this thing moving.”

“Shiro’s right,” Hunk said, opening the trunk to get one of the jerry cans. While Lance filled the shitstain up, Keith made his way over to Pidge.

“Hey,” he said lamely.

“Hey,” Pidge echoed, not looking up from her magazine.

“Pidge, right?” Keith asked. He was pretty sure that Pidge was, in fact, this girl’s name. But you can never be too sure, especially since Keith kept wanting to call her Pudge, like the fish from Lilo and Stitch.

“Katie, actually,” she corrected.

“Oh, sorry, I thought I heard Shiro call you Pidge,” Keith said sheepishly.

“Yeah. It’s a nickname. The guys have called me that since forever ago,” Katie explained, “It’s just an inside joke.” She waved it off and got back to reading the magazine (PC Gamers Monthly). Keith tried to ignore how she had put emphasis on the words _inside joke_.

“So, Katie,” he continued, “that line about Lance whining and complaining. Is that really the reason, or did you just say that to get under his skin?”

“A mix of both, actually,” Katie explained, “Lance would not shut up the entire way there about how I was getting more driving practice than him, and to avoid having that happen again, Shiro developed a driving schedule so all of us would get equal driving time. We take turns days one and two, and then we each drive all day for one day until we get to New York.”

“Ah,” Keith nodded. Then, something clicked that set Keith in unease all over again, “I’m sorry, did you just say that this trip is seven days long?”

“Uh, yeah? So?” Katie crossed her arms.

“So? New York is like three days away. Four days at the absolute most,” Keith pointed out.

“Oh, Shiro didn’t tell you?” Katie asked, as she climbed into the driver’s seat, “we’re making some pit stops.”

 _Great. Fantastic. Wonderful. This road trip from hell is getting dragged out longer than I thought_. Keith pushed his semi unenthused attitude to the back of his mind as everyone got back into the car. He tried sitting in the back row, where Shiro had parked himself, but he was stopped mid-way.

“Forget it, Keith,” Shiro said, practically laying across the row, “I’m not sitting next to you after that shit joke about my car. I already get enough crap from Pidge.”

“Don’t listen to him. He just wants the back row to himself,” Katie interjected, “He’s just using a very thinly veiled excuse as to why you can’t sit back there.”

“I resent that!” Shiro shouted back, but he didn’t budge. Keith sighed and glanced around the car. Pidge was in the driver’s seat, Hunk was riding shotgun. Which left only one option. Sit next to Lance.

Keith cursed under his breath as he slid in next to Lance, his self proclaimed rival. This was gonna be a long twenty six minutes. Unless-

“So, Lance,” Keith made an attempt at a friendly smile, “what happened on that Spring break trip to make it so awesome?” Keith was mostly asking to get under everyone else’s skin, since they clearly had heard Lance talk about it nonstop already. But Keith couldn’t lie, he _was_ pretty curious.

“I’m glad you asked, Keith,” Lance grinned. He had a nice smile, Keith observed. The entire car erupted into over the top groaning as Lance launched into telling the story. “So Hunk couldn’t afford to go back home to see his moms last year for spring break, yeah? So I came up with the amazing idea to invite him and everyone else along with me on my vacation back home, since we all seriously needed a vacation. It took some convincing, but then we were off on the road trip of our young lives!

“So, anyway, the five of us got to Long Beach, and Shiro was excited to see the beach scene, Pidge had plenty of photo ops, and, as I predicted, Hunk got along great with my family!

“We woke up early every morning and went surfing, which is how the incident happened. About three days in, Hunk got stung by a local jellyfish! He refused to let me pee on him-”

“I’m sorry, did you just say you tried to _pee_ on him?” Keith asked, mortified.

“What? It’s a natural painkiller for jellyfish stings. Anyway, the boy refused to let me pee on him, which means that Hunk was bedridden for a couple of days. And Matt was probably off hanging out with my older brother,” Lance stopped to shudder, “so Pidge and I were on our own. Not such a bad thing though, since Long Beach is a pretty hot vacation spot. We hit up a couple of parties a day (save for the ones ma insisted were not appropriate for Pidge to go to) and, towards the end, I met her.”

 _Her?_ Keith wondered. Sure, Lance was nothing short of a stud at the university, but Keith wasn’t expecting any strange encounters of the lady kind to be appearing in this story.

“She was tall and pretty, with golden-blonde hair and emerald green eyes. Naturally I had to work my charms. She totally called me cute, by the way. She was laughing at all the lines I was throwing her way, and she asked me if I wanted to hang out. We pretty much spent the entire rest of the vacation together. It was amazing. She was amazing. She showed me all kinds of cool music and I showed her all my favorite spots on the beach. To this day it is still the best spring break I’ve ever had.”

“You remember that entire vacation perfectly, but you can’t remember that Keith beat your ass at beer pong?” Pidge asked.

“You weren’t there!” Lance shouted, and rolled his eyes, “Anyway. She lives in New York, and some of her favorite bands are playing at the fest this weekend, so I’m hoping to see her.”

“That’s, um, nice,” Keith grumbled.

“See, Lance, even Keith is tired of that story, and he’s only heard it once,” Pidge smirked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance said in a mocking tone, “You’re just jealous because you didn’t meet any cute girls on vacation.” Katie blushed and turned her attention back to the road.

“Oh, I don’t think Pidge is the one who’s jealous,” Hunk said in a singsong voice. He then proceeded to wink at Keith. Whatever the hell that was supposed to imply, Keith did not like it one bit.

* * *

 

Finally. _Finally_ it was Keith’s turn to drive. Which meant, according to Shiro’s own rules, he got to be the one to pick the music. Of course he was going to punish his brother for dragging him on this trip. Which could only mean one thing. Marianas Trench. In his defense, they were a solid band. Maybe he had played their music so many times around the house that Shiro couldn’t stand to listen to it anymore, but that was beside the point. The opening chords of Say Anything played through the shitty phone speaker.

“I will show Lance that photo right now,” Shiro hissed, quietly.

“You can’t. You already used that for dragging me on this trip,” Keith pointed out, “double blackmail is outlawed. And besides, it was your rule to let the driver pick the music, and you let Lance play California Girls to no end.”

“Touche,” Shiro slumped back in his seat. Keith smiled to himself, triumphantly. He was going to savor every bit of his turn.

“Hey,” Katie perked up, “whatever this is, it’s pretty good.”

“Don’t encourage him, Pidge,” Shiro sighed.

“Hey, at least someone in this car has good taste in music,” Keith smirked.

“Hans Zimmer is the greatest composer of our time, I will have you know,” Shiro practically sputtered.

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith waved Shiro off.

“So, what band _is_ this?” Hunk asked, scratching Apollo’s belly.

“Marianas Trench,” Keith answered, “also known as the greatest band of all time.”

“Don’t get him started,” Shiro warned.

“Oh, shut up, will ya? It’s your fault for dragging me on this ridiculous trip,” Keith pointed out.

“You didn’t have to come on the trip though,” Katie snapped, “you could have just stayed home and not invaded our entire vacation just to complain and whine.”

“Pidge!” Shiro shouted. Keith tried his best to ignore her. Who cared if Katie didn’t like him, anyway?

* * *

 

Keith spent the next few hours avoiding Pidge like the plague. Which wasn’t exactly easy, considering they were trapped in the same car for a week. Still, when she sat in the front, he sat in the back, and vice versa. An unspoken agreement of mutual distaste for one another. Well, mostly on Pidge’s part actually.

They finally arrived at the first stop. Keith was glad to finally be able to escape the car for more than five minutes, and he was almost excited when he found out what the first stop was.

“Into the horizon adventure motorcycle tours?” Katie read off the map, “Shiro, that doesn’t sound too ‘road trip of a lifetime’-ey.”

“Mom mentioned having me take a picture in front of the building for her,” Shiro explained.

“Shiro, this is a bike rental place. It’s not like a super cool museum or something,” Lance yawned, having just woken up from a nap.

“I know, I know. But it’s sentimental!” Shiro declared.

“How the hell is a dusty old shack in the woods of Idaho sentimental?” Katie asked.

“Wait, Isn’t this where Ma and Pops met?” Keith asked, recognizing the place from a couple of photo albums.

“Yes!” Shiro shouted excitedly, “and Mom would kill me if I didn’t tell the story.”

“Oh, god,” Katie groaned, “I was afraid he’d say that.”

“The year was 1992. It was a warm June day and our mom was working at the rental place for college money,” Shiro nudged Keith.

“All of a sudden, Pops comes ripping down the road like nobody's business in this piece of shit,” Keith pointed towards the shit stain, “of course, it was new back then, but it was still kinda shit. It had been through two hail storms, three engines and four college road trips,”

“The car broke down,” Shiro continued.

“It broke down when it was new and you still think it’s in good condition?” Katie asked.

“The fact that the Schwartz broke down was to no fault of its own, Pidge. It was clearly a work of fate,” Shiro glared at Katie, “anyway, Dad was in the middle of nowhere and just happened to come across this run-down motorcycle place.”

“He walks in the store, and guess who’s working there?” Keith grinned, “good ol’ Ma.”

“Their eyes met, and it was love at first sight, though I doubt either of them knew it at the time,” Shiro continued.

“Pops tells her he needs to rent a bike for a couple of days, because he’s trying to get to Florida on time for his aunt’s wedding,” Keith explained.

“The only problem was that Dad wasn’t just going to leave Schwartz behind,” Shiro smiled ear to ear, “so he practically begged Mom to watch his suburban for about a week.”

“She says she’ll do it, but not for free. Pops says he just gave her most of the money he had to rent the motorcycle, and he still needed to pay for gas.”

“She took pity on the poor guy and told him the price was a date,” Shiro concluded, “and that, of course, was only the beginning.”

“Awww, that’s so cute,” Hunk gushed.

“So now, we must take a picture or dearest Mother shall never forgive us!” Shiro said in a dramatic fake accent.

“You are so weird,” Keith groaned.

“You love it,” Shiro retorted, handing Lance a disposable camera.

“What, you want me to take the picture?” Lance asked.

“Yes, Lance, we want you to take the picture,” Shiro answered. Lance groaned, so he added, “I know, what a heavy workload. One picture? This is borderline abuse.”

Keith stood next to his brother in front of the building, and Shiro pulled him into a half-hug.

“Say cheese,” Lance mumbled, and took the picture.

“Great, now, let’s get back in the car,” Katie was running out of patience.

“As much as I would love to hear more about your parents, Pidge is right, it’s almost  four in the afternoon, and I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m getting kinda hungry,” Hunk said.

“Didn’t you have an entire bag of Chex mix like, half an hour ago?” Pidge asked.

“Lance ate most of it, and it was all I’ve had to eat since we left Portland,” Hunk explained.

“Hunk, I am so very glad you said that,” Shiro grinned, getting back in the car, “because we’re about to visit Mom and Dad’s first date spot.”

* * *

 

“Your parents’ first date was at an _Arby’s?_ ” Pidge quirked an eyebrow in disbelief, “and whoever suggested that was not dumped by the other one immediately?”

“Well, yeah. It was really all they could afford at the time,” Shiro explained.

“This place smells like vomit,” Hunk pointed out.

“Spoken by someone who should know,” Keith mumbled, earning a chuckle from Hunk.

“Will you two quit flirting so we can hurry up and eat?” Pidge demanded

“Wow, someone’s hangry,” Lance mused.

“It’s not that I’m hungry,” Pidge crossed her arms, “it’s that the sooner we eat, the sooner we can leave this shit hole.”

“Only to climb back into the shit hole we know and love,” Lance retorted.

Five god-awful sandwiches later (Keith could swear he spotted a booger on someone’s plate) and they were all back on the road. Lance was driving, and this time around, everyone agreed to let him play whatever the hell he liked, just as so long as it wasn’t that. Fucking. Song. So, he played Wicked and absolutely no one complained as he sung along to every single word.

* * *

 

Keith didn’t notice the change in atmosphere at first. In fact, his anxiety had been through the roof when he got back in the car. But, after a while, it was easy to see that the bizarre tension was suddenly disappearing. Lance had changed the music to soft, acoustic music. Hunk had started knitting. Shiro was reading. And even Pidge was in a better mood, as Keith noticed that she had actually _smiled_ at him. Keith could actually relax. _There must be something about indigestion causing food and a lame twenty-year old love story that just brings people together,_ Keith thought, as he drifted into a nap.

* * *

Keith woke up at around nine pm, when they needed to stop for gas for the umpteenth time. Everyone was arguing outside of the car. _So much for peaceful_ , Keith thought bitterly as he climbed out of the car.

“What,” Keith yawned, “what is everyone shouting about?”

“We’re trying to figure out which two of us are taking the night shift of driving,” Pidge explained.

“Well, I think-” Keith started but was interrupted by a chorus of shouting.

“Guys!” Hunk finally shouted, “I have a solution in mind.”

“Any suggestion you have will be helpful, Hunk,” Shiro said, glad that everyone was quieting down.

“Well, since Keith and Lance are practically nocturnal-” Hunk pointed out.

“Absolutely not!” Lance interjected.

“Lance, please,” Shiro groaned, “let the boy speak, would you?”

“Like I was saying,” Hunk continued, “Lance and Keith are practically nocturnal. Shiro and I are early birds. And Pidge needs that doctor recommended 8-10 hours. It’s the obvious choice to let them drive all night.”

“He does have a point,” Shiro agreed.

“He has got nothing of the sort!” Lance protested. Shiro shot him a glare that could freeze hell over, and Lance begrudgingly climbed into the driver’s seat.

* * *

 

Pidge was the last of the non-night shifters to fall asleep, clocking out at around eleven thirty. That left Lance and Keith. Alone. Together. Great. Keith was the first of them to initiate conversation, albeit after like, an hour of silence.

“There’s not much in this part of the country, is there?” Keith asked.

“No, guess not,” Lance mumbled. Silence fell in the car again, though Keith tried again.

“It’s boring though, driving with nobody to talk to,” Keith mused.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Lance joked.

“Chopped liver would be a better conversationalist than you, at least,” Keith retorted.

“Oh, yeah? Well you have the conversation skills of a piece of burnt toast,” Lance laughed.

“Why burnt?” Keith asked. Lance only shrugged.

“You’ve hardly said anything to anybody since we started this trip,” Lance continued.

“Well...I guess I really haven’t been that great a conversationalist,” Keith admitted, tightening his grip on the wheel, “It’s just, everyone’s acting so fucking weird.”

“Oh, thank God, you notice it too,” Lance sighed.

“Wait, you notice it?” Keith asked, “I thought it was just me being irrational.”

“No way, man,” Lance shook his head, “it’s pretty much been this way since....you know.”

“Really?” Keith asked.

“Yeah. Spring break was so freaking uncomfortable. You could cut the tension with a knife. Shiro refused to make eye contact with anyonw, Hunk just hid in the corner with the Percy Jackson saga, and Pidge looked ready to kill a man. It didn't help that Shiro wasn't letting himself grieve. He was just too happy. Not to mention that he clicked a little too well with some of Allura's friends.”

“He dragged everyone along for that, too?”

“Yeah. It was wild, dude. I mean, who just brings their friends along to see the band he's been ditching his preexisting friends to hang  out with? Not me, I say. And not anyone else who possesses common sense either.”  
“He didn’t come to Christmas, either,” Keith chimed in, “Allura was in Seattle for a week or so.” The car fell silent for a few minutes. Lance was the first to speak again.

“Is it wrong to kind of despise someone you don’t even know all that well, just because she kind of accidentally Yoko-Ono’d  you?”

“Not when Shiro is so obnoxious about-” Keith stopped himself, “did you just make a beatles analogy to apply to this situation?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, Yoko Ono tore a band apart. And I doubt Allura is gonna lead to Shiro getting killed. Besides, they're not even dating. I think this is the exact opposite of a Yoko Ono situation going down. If what Shiro says is true, isn’t she making his life _better?_ ”

“Touche,” Lance quirked an eyebrow and stroked his chin. After that it was quiet, but a peaceful kind of quiet. It was almost thirty minutes until someone spoke again.

“Can I ask you a question?” Lance asked.

“What am I gonna do? Say no? Tuck and roll? Shoot.”

“Okay, okay,” Lance rolled his eyes, “so. The whole Mr and Mrs. Shirogane love story. Is that the reason you’re into motorcycles?”

“Yeah. Yeah it is,” Keith nodded.

“That’s actually really sweet, I’ll have to admit.”

“Yeah. My dad told me that story when I was little and I was absolutely sold. He bought me a calendar of all the classic Harley Davidsons, he took me to shows, he even helped me build my first bike.”

“That’s nice,” Lance bit his lip. He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he just couldn’t get the words to form.

“I’m not gonna bite you if you ask another question,” Keith assured him.

“It’s just. I wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened to him. That must have been so awful, losing your dad like that.”

“I wasn’t the one who was with him when it happened.”

“Still. Shiro told me how close the two of you were.”

“Yeah,” Keith laughed, “it’s kind of funny, really. Shiro is obsessed with cars, and so was my dad. But he’s so much closer with Mom, who’s really into motorcycles. Funny how that works.”

“Keith?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Go for it.”

“Your dad died like, right before you dropped out.”

“.....Yeah.”

“Was that,” Lance paused, “did you drop out because of your dad?”

“........Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“It was just….hard to go back to school after that. I know I had less on my plate than Shiro did. I mean, he was in physical therapy for almost a year. And he’s still emotionally recovering from that. I wasn’t even there. Mountains. Molehills. However that saying goes.” Keith’s voice cracked ever so slightly.

“No, man. I get it. I mean, after my sister-” Lance stopped himself. He looked away from Keith.

“Did you, um,” Keith didn’t want to be invasive, but he did just reveal an Earth shattering secret with Lance. Eye for an eye.

“My older sister. Darlene,” Lance’s voice was shaking, “she would be twenty four. But she only got to live to be seventeen. She….she went for a swim one night with her friends. They were drinking. A lot. I guess she hit her head on a rock….and….and...and,” Although Keith wasn’t looking at him, he knew Lance was crying.

“Oh, Lance,” Keith placed a hand on his shoulder, “I’m so sorry.”

“The worst part of it is that I remember the next morning like it was yesterday. I jumped out of bed early, because it was Sunday. Waffle day. I sprinted to the kitchen, and then the expressions on my parents’ faces stopped me dead in my tracks. There were police in my living room. I asked what was going on, and my parents just hugged me and cried,” he glanced over at Keith, “Isn’t it fucked up how your brain will do that? Perfectly remember exactly what happened leading up to the moment your life fell apart?”

“Yeah,” Keith felt tears building up in his own eyes now, “me and Ma were making Christmas cookies when it happened. The car was in the shop, as per usual, so Dad and Shiro walked to the convenience store down the street to get stuff to make frosting. Me and Mom were mixing batter. She got a phone call, and her face fell. She told me we needed to go to the hospital immediately. But it was already too late when we got there. I never really got the chance to say goodbye.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Yeah,” Keith laughed, “hands down the most fucked up Christmas vacation I’ve ever had.”

“I guess that means that it really was the opposite of a Yoko Ono story. He got shot, _then_ he met these people, _then_ all the band stuff started happening.”

“Dude.”

“Sorry. I was trying to lighten the mood. But that was too far. Sorry.”

“....Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For the talking. It helps.”

“Oh, yeah. Uh, ditto.” Lance said lamely, as Keith pulled the car to a stop. They refilled the gage and got back in. That was when Keith realized the perk of sitting shotgun next to someone you may or may not secretly like. You get to stare at them the entire ride, and they don’t even notice.

Lance did, though. Lance noticed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that leads into this chapter (Acadia by Marianas Trench)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sjo8ipjf8Qw  
> Say Anything by Marianas Trench:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50AL_I3j2ms  
> My Tumblr (If y'all want to come say hi!)  
> moonsofmercury@tumblr.com  
> As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a comment!  
> (oh and P. S. The owner of Into the Horizon is named Lance! Completely by coincidence! How cool is that?)  
> (Also if you thought THIS chapter was angsty, well, *muffled evil laughter*)


	4. Slurpees, Girlfriends and Ferrets, oh my!

_Wishing on a star_

_That’s just a satellite_

_Driving in a car_

_With broken tail lights_

_Growing up  with_

_eyes glued shut_

“What kind of slurpee do you want?” Lance called from across the convenience store.

“I don’t know,” Keith sighed, “don’t they all taste the same anyway?”

“No!” Lance gasped, “What kind of person doesn’t know the difference between cherry and blue raspberry? Someone without a moral compass, that’s who.”

“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating just a little?” Keith asked, though he had a feeling he knew the answer.

“Absolutely not! You can tell a lot about a person based on their favorite kind of slurpee,” Lance answered.

“....Such as?”

“People who prefer cherry slurpees are more impulsive and attracted to danger. They try to stand out, and seek excitement, new experiences.” Lance explained, “People who prefer blue raspberry are honest, kind, and slightly rebellious. People who like orange slurpees are cheerful and optimistic, they’re adventurous and friendly. Pink lovers are tough, kind, generous, and mature. And green lovers are assertive, outgoing, and way fun.”

“That is such bullshit. They are _drinks,_ Lance, not tarot cards.”

“It is not bullshit!”

“Mr. McClain provides a convincing argument,” Keith rolled his eyes.

“Deny all you want, but it’s suspiciously accurate. Especially in our friend group.”

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” Keith challenged. _He said our friend group. Our._ Keith thought.

“How the hell am I supposed to prove it?”

“Use your imagination?”

“Ugh. Fine,” Lance went silent for a few minutes, considering how to convince this skeptic of slurpee logic. Then, just like that, “Light bulb!”

“You actually thought of something?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

“....And?”

“Okay, so, my idea is to tell you everyone’s favorite flavors and you can judge for yourself how accurate it is.”

“Lance, this is ridiculous,” Keith groaned.

“Freeze your brain, for science.”

“Fine,” Keith agreed.

“Shiro’s favorite is pink. Like I said, mature, tough and generous. Hunk and Matt’s favorites are both orange,” Lance tacked off his fingers, “I think that speaks for itself. Pidge’s favorite is green. Mine is blue. Need I say more?”

“Not convinced,” Keith raised an eyebrow, “Like, at all.”

“Well, I would start listing off my family’s favorite kinds of slurpees, but that would take forever and you haven’t met them yet anyway so…”

“Wait,” Keith held up a hand, “how do I know you didn’t make all that shit up to fit your magic slurpee theory?”

“Not magic, Keith. Legitimate science. And as much as I would love to take credit for the brilliance that is the slurpee theory, I didn’t come up with it. A very reliable source did.”

“Uh huh. What kind of reliable source? Cosmo magazine? A throwaway Buzzfeed article?”

“I am _insulted,_ ” Lance gasped again, “no. Absolutely not. The source was Nyma, for your information!”

“....Nyma?”

“The girl I mentioned that I met on spring break.”

“A girl you dated for a week can now be considered a reliable source?”

“Her taste in music is legit, so why wouldn’t her theory be just as solid?”

“This coming from a guy whose favorite song is California Girls.”

“That song is a fluke. And anyway, my little sister confirmed that the theory is scarily accurate. She conducted actual experiments with Pidge.”

“Still not buying it,” Keith said in a singsong voice.

“Okay, scratch that, then. New idea,” Lance said as he dragged a begrudging Keith over to the slurpee machine, “we are going to conduct the same experiment that Pidge and Penelope came up with.”

“Clearly you’re not going to leave this alone, so lay it on me.”

“I’m going to guess which flavor you’ll be, then write it down on a piece of paper and fold it up without showing you. The piece of paper will be placed in your back pocket so neither of us can get to it. Cool?”

“Cool. But what the hell does this-”

“Next you are given a blindfold, and a slurpee of each flavor. You tell me which you like the best, and then the blindfold will be removed, and the answer will be revealed.” Lance interrupted.

“What the hell are we gonna do with all of that extra slurpee?” Keith asked, patience wearing thin but curiosity growing stronger.

“Slurpee drinking contest. Duh.”

“And who’s paying for all of this?”

“The loser, i. e, you.”

“Will you at least admit this is ridiculous and convoluted?”

“I will do no such thing,” Lance answered, as he pulled out a scrap of paper.

“I guess I get no say in this, huh?”

“You know I’m not going to leave you alone about this until I prove it to you. Better sooner than later, right?”

Keith sighed, taking out a bandana to use as a blindfold, “right.”

Lance allowed Keith to sample each flavor, and gave him all the time he needed to decide his favorite. He eventually decided he hated two of the flavors, liked another two, and absolutely loved the last one. When he removed the blindfold, he discovered that his favorite of the flavors was cherry. Cool. Now for the real moment of truth. He handed Lance the slip of paper skeptically.

“So, which one did you like the most?” Lance asked, smugly.

“Cherry,” Keith sighed. Lance grinned as he revealed the other side of the paper. Written plainly across it was the word Keith was dreading to see.

“I hate to say I told you so.”

“No, you don’t,” Keith retorted.

“I really don’t.”

“What even is your obsession with slurpees?”

“I guess I just live for that sweet frozen rush,” Lance smirked.

“Is that a goddamn musical reference?” Keith groaned.

“Yes. How did you know it was from a musical,” Lance gasped, “do I spot a closet musical fan?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not. Shiro has enough to make fun of me for already, thanks. No, I know that it’s a musical reference because I’ve been trapped in a car with a fanatic all day.”

“Point taken. But now do you believe me?”

“I still don’t know, man,” Keith shook his head,

“C’mon, dude, there has been too much evidence in favor of the slurpee theory to wave it off as some massive coincidence,” Lance whined. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Dude, it’s a fucking slurpee theory. Not the Stanley Kubrick moon landing theory.”

“But-” Lance stopped himself, “I’m sorry, the fucking what now?”

“The Stanley Kubrick moon landing theory,” Keith repeated slowly, “in which Kubrick directed the moon landing video and helped fool the entire planet.”

“Oh, god,” Lance groaned, “you’re one of _them_.”

“I know, I know. I swear that's the only conspiracy theory I'm invested in. But there is an overwhelming amount of evidence."

“You were skeptical that favorite slurpee flavors can tell a lot about your personality, but you think that Stanley fucking Kubrick directed the moon landing? What’s next, aliens forged the declaration of independence?”

“The proof is in the pudding, mate. And by pudding, I mean The Shining.”

“Oh, Pidge showed me the videos. I wouldn’t buy it for a nickel.”

“Lance! It’s all right there! The pattern on the carpet, Danny’s shirt, the fact that the American flag was blowing in the wind on the tape. The wind, Lance. You know where they don’t have wind? On the fucking moon!”

“Keith, people are staring.”

“There is literally only one other person in here.”

“Even still.”

“But-”

“Look, Keith, I will pay for half of the slurpees if you agree to not bring this up for the rest of the vacation. I already have to deal with this kind of shit from Pidge daily.”

“Fine,” Keith grumbled, “but this is far from over. When we get back to Oregon, it is on like King Kong motherfucker.”

* * *

 

Keith and Lance were on the road yet again. This time, Keith was driving, leaving Lance the one to stare. When Lance was driving, his posture was relaxed, and only one hand was placed firmly on the wheel. Keith, however, drove more cautiously than Hunk. His back was straightened, his hands were firmly gripped on the wheel, at ten and two. His brow was knitted, shoulders squared, and a small scowl graced his lips. _God, how did he even manage to be cute while glaring at the road like it killed a man?_ Lance mused. But then he realized something that set him in unease. Keith was driving like he was _afraid_ of the car.

Lance had seen Keith driving on his motorcycle, and he was anything but careful. Speed limits to Keith were, in the words of Pirates of the Caribbean, more like guidelines than actual rules. Yet here Keith was, driving like he was gonna crash at any second. Maybe Keith was so used to motorcycles that driving cars made him uncomfortable, Lance reasoned. Or maybe there was just something about _this_ car in particular. Lance wondered if-

“Do you mind if I change the music?” Keith asked, cutting Lance off from his thoughts.

“I, um,” Lance suddenly realized that he had the Fun Home soundtrack still playing, “no. I mean, you can. Uh, go for it.”

“Why so tense all of a sudden?” Keith laughed nervously. _Great job. You were finally getting along with him and you blew it_. Keith thought bitterly.

Lance found himself nearly saying _I could ask you the same goddamn question,_ but he decided that, no, that would not be a good idea. Instead he responded with:

“Nothing. Just, I dunno, thinking.”

“...About?” Man, if Keith didn’t seem tense before…

“Um,” Lance started to panic, “The, um, the moon landing! Yeah, that’s it, I was thinking about the. Moon landing.”

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about that,” Keith quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Lance’s voice squeaked, “but you asked what I was thinking about and. Uh, yeah. Just about how your theory makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense!” Keith sputtered.

“No it most certainly does not!” Lance snorted, “First off, If they had enough money to fake a moon landing, which would cost like, infinity dollars, then why didn’t they just use that money to build a rocket instead?”

“It was never about the money, Lance,” Keith practically shouted, “America’s scientists just weren’t smart enough to even design a rocket.”

“Keep your voice down! Sheesh, We’re in a car full of sleeping people!” Lance said, at top volume, “And if that’s true, why couldn’t they just like, pay a Russian scientist to crack the code? Clearly they were smarter than our scientists, right? So pay a Russian guy to build a rocket, then you only have to pay one guy to keep his mouth shut, America still wins the space race, and Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong are still heroes.”

“You know what, Lance?”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

“You know I’m right.”

“No, I do not,” Keith glanced over to make sure everyone was still asleep, “you don’t have your head on straight, dude.”

“Neither do you, smart guy,” Lance snorted, “and you should know by now that nothing about me is straight.” Keith choked on his corn nuts.

“I,” Keith wheezed, “that’s a good point.”

“Are you, uh. Are you okay, dude?”

“What, me? I’m fine,” Keith squeaked out. He cleared his throat, “I’m cool, I’m chill, I’m nonchalant. None of the chalants were had this evening.”

“Riiiiight,” Lance rolled his eyes. A few minutes passed before Lance decided to speak again, “So. Uh, Keith?”

“Yes, that would be my name.”

“Just out of like, boredom and very minor curiosity, what’s your favorite color?”

“Red,” Keith answered quickly, almost like his brain was on autopilot, “You?”

“Blue,” Lance responded, “It’s the color of my favorite things in the world.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like the ocean,” Lance elaborated, “and the sky. And I used to have a pretty blue betta fish, his name was Charlie.” Keith couldn’t help but smile to himself at how adorable Lance was. He could sit there and listen to Lance talk about his interests for hours. Lance turned to Keith,  “Why is red your favorite?”

“Um. I don’t know. I never really thought about it,” Keith answered, “I guess it started being my favorite color because it was my dad’s too? Maybe? I dunno.”

“Huh,” Lance turned his attention back towards the road.

“So, Lance?” Keith asked, not wanting the conversation to end.

“Yeah?”

“What, um. What’s your major? I mean, I know it’s a lame question but you asked me what my favorite color is, so.”

“I’m getting my degree in marine biology.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah. And Hunk’s studying to be an environmental lawyer. After graduation, we’re teaming up to take down SeaWorld.”

“Cool,” Keith said again.

“Yeah. Though I assume by then we’ll have to upgrade from the van to something a little, I dunno, sleeker? It doesn’t seem like they’re gonna take two guys in suits seriously if they drove to all their important meetings in a van with a spray painted tiger on the side.”

“You have a van?”

“Yes. It’s mostly for adventuring.”

“Couldn’t we have driven to New York in it?”

“Well, in theory we could, but the van, albeit much safer than this heap of garbage, gets even worse mileage, and has no back seats.”

“I’m sorry, did you say there was a _tiger_ spray painted on it back there?”

“Yeah? So?”

“Last year some dickheads in a van with a tiger on it ran over my lunch.”

“Who you calling dickhead, dickhead?” Lance quirked an eyebrow, “And yeah, that was us. Sorry. But in our defense, why the hell was your lunch in the street?”

“I dropped it!”

“And that’s my problem because?”

“That Taco Bell value lunch costed me eight bucks!”

“Well, I saved you from diarrhea, so you're welcome.”

“You are such an asshat.”

“And the sky is blue. Want to point out any more obvious facts?”

“Lance?”

“What, dickhead?”

“It’s dark out.”

“So?”

“The sky technically isn’t blue right now.”

“.....Shit.”

* * *

 

The sun was barely starting to rise over the horizon. Lance had fallen asleep in the passenger seat about an hour before. Keith’s retinas were starting to burn from keeping them open for too long, and he found himself drifting in and out of consciousness. It was definitely not safe to be driving in this condition. He could, in theory, wake Lance up and switch seats. But Lance had been up all night too, and he was more used to sleep than Keith was. He glanced at the clock. 6 19 am. It was too early to be waking everyone else up. Even Shiro wasn’t up this early usually.

No, Keith would tough it out. Just another hour. He could do this. He could…...do this. He could…...do………...th-CAR! Keith swerved out of the way. Ah, two hours ahead of schedule, his morning panic attack. Always coming through for him. He had to calm down. _It’s okay, Keith, it’s cool. Everything is fine. Absolutely fine. You didn’t crash, okay?_ He soothed himself. Four breathing exercises later, he was back to normal. But driving was not an option at this point. He bit his lip. There was an exit coming up. Maybe just a twenty minute nap, yeah? Yeah. He’d set an alarm and everything. They hit a pothole and Lance’s head fell onto Keith’s shoulder. His hair smelled like green apple shampoo. Yes, a power nap was sounding great right about now.

* * *

 

“Should we wake them?” Hunk asked, pointing to the sleeping pair of bodies in front seat.

“Hunk, we have to. They’re passed out in the front seats,” Shiro pointed out.

“But they’re so cute together!” Hunk gushed, “look at Lance’s head resting on Keith’s shoulder!” Pidge glanced over to see Keith drooling all over Lance. More so than usual, anyway.

“Yeah, it’s adorable,” Pidge rolled her eyes, “but we really do need to get going. You can’t drive from the back seat.”

“Pidge actually has a point,” Shiro agreed.

“Of course I do. I’m the backbone of this operation,” Pidge crossed her arms, “As such, I have come up with an idea. Since that obnoxious alarm woke me up at 6 45 in the goddamn morning, disturbing my sleep prematurely, I say we return the favor,” Pidge then proceeded to grab Apollo and try to stick him in Lance’s shirt.

“Pidge,” Shiro cautioned.

“What? I don’t see you nerds coming up with a plan,” Pidge quirked an eyebrow.

“Can’t we just lift them up and move them to the back? They did have a long night,” Hunk reasoned.

“That plan is mediocre at best. We’re sending in the little general,” Pidge declared, raising Apollo up again.

“Pidge.”

“Fiiiiine. We’ll do it Hunk’s way. Geez Dad, quit yelling at me,” Pidge grumbled.

* * *

 

And that, kids, is how Keith woke up with Lance practically draped on him, along with an afghan. Shiro was driving. Lance was sleeping. His head rested right on the crook of Keith’s neck. His arms curled around Keith. Lance must have mistaken him for a pillow. He was warm. Very warm. And, as you can’t be an asshole in your sleep, he actually looked kind of….adorable, okay? He was adorable. That was it. Keith _had_ crashed into the other car. He had died and gone to heaven. But the universe was about to prove him so very wrong, as right just then, Keith let out the most blood curdling scream to ever exist.

“What the whole entire fuck?” Lance demanded, rubbing his eyes. He seemed to realize he had been cuddling Keith, because he practically flung himself across the row.

“The ferret!” Keith shrieked, “the tiny glorified tube sock is in my shirt!”

“I told you that was an effective method to wake someone up!” Pidge shouted triumphantly.

“It is biting my back! Little fuckwad!”

“Awwwww he likes you,” Hunk grinned.

“I don’t care!” Keith hissed, “if this thing told me I was it’s everything I would still punt it across the highway!”

“Don’t be mean to him!” Pidge growled.

“Me???? Being mean??? To _him_?”

“Devil ferret!” Shiro chirped. Apollo’s head poked out from Keith’s collar. Keith grabbed a hold of him, the weasel clawing at him and holding on like a leech all the way. Keith finally got him off, but the thing had death in his eyes. Like any completely rational human being who wasn’t running on five hours of sleep, Keith panicked and fucking launched the ferret at Lance. A horrible scene followed.

Once Lance had managed to hand the demon weasel off to Hunk, he shot a glare at Keith that could freeze hell over.

“So thanks,” Lance hissed, “for that experience. I could have gone my whole life without getting mauled by a ferret but nooooo.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I panicked,” Keith admitted, “if you threw a ferret at me, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“See, Keith, the difference between you and me is that I would not pelt a ferret at you,” Lance retorted.

“That’s debatable,” Shiro chimed in.

“Yeah, I mean, isn’t Keith your ‘rival’ or whatever?” Pidge asked.

“Yeah, but we bonded last night,” Keith interjected.

“What? No we didn’t,” Lance grumped, looking away from Keith.

“Yuh-huh! We totally, like, soul searched and shit,” Keith argued.

“You have to have a soul to search it,” Lance pointed out.

“Oh, you wanna go, motherfucker?” Keith challenged.

“Keith,” Shiro warned.

“It’s okay, Keith, I believe you,” Hunk assured.

“Betrayal!” Lance shouted, “you’re really gonna take the word of him over me, your best friend since forever?”

“Yeah, cause I know you well enough to know when you are full of shit,” Hunk smirked.

Well, that shut Lance up, for about six minutes.

* * *

 

Hunk was driving, and Lance was sitting shotgun. Keith’s unspoken agreement with Lance to sit as far away from each other as possible overrode his previous similar agreement with Pidge. Which was why Keith found himself sitting in the back row with Pidge, who he was pretty goddamn sure hated him at this point. Still, he was still too flustered to be sitting anywhere near Lance after that whole incident, so here he was. Luckily, Pidge was on her phone the entire time, which didn’t leave much room for conversation.

About ten minutes into the ride, Keith caught a glimpse at Pidge’s screen. She was texting someone called Penny. The most recent text read “I miss you” with a green heart emoji after it. She smiled as she typed “I miss you too” with not one, but two heart emojis.

 _Must be a friend from back home,_ Keith reasoned. Though, now that he thought about it, she never really talked about any other friends, and he thought he heard Matt talking about how antisocial she was at school. Mystery texting buddy suddenly became a lot more mysterious. Pidge must've noticed him glancing, because she yanked her phone out of sight and scowled at him.

“Mind your piss, Shirogane,” Pidge hissed.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah, well it would be real nice if you stayed out of my fucking business,” Pidge cut him off.

“Sorry!” Keith squeaked.

“What’s going on back there?” Shiro demanded.

“Keith must have accidentally glanced over at Pidge’s phone and seen who she’s been texting,” Hunk shrugged.

“Who _have_ you been texting?” Lance asked, interest piqued.

“N-nobody,” Pidge shrinked back.

“Bull! You’ve been typing all morning and laughing to yourself,” Lance smirked, “when are you going to tell us about your secret girlfriend?”

“Secret girlfriend?” Hunk perked up.

“Now, guys, if Pidge doesn’t want to-”

“Keith, who was she texting?” Lance asked, “because if it really was a secret girlfriend, we would all love to meet her.”

“I, um,” Keith found himself at a loss for words. Secret girlfriend? He saw the desperation in Pidge’s eyes. Then it clicked. Secret girlfriend. Penny. Penelope. Lance’s sister. Pidge raised her finger to her lips, “nobody. She was just working on a college essay.” Pidge’s eyes softened, and she (sort of) smiled. Keith grinned and winked.

“Really?” Shiro asked, “That’s really nice, Pidge, I’m so proud of you.”

“You go girlfriend!” Lance whooped. And suddenly, almost as if a curse was lifted, the tension between the two of them began to fade.

* * *

 

“So, Katie,” Keith approached Pidge. She was standing in front of the postcard kiosk at the gas station. Shiro had sent them in for gas, but Lance had to pee. Which gave them a couple minutes.

“Uh, yeah?” Pidge turned around to face him.

“About that whole secret you know what thing,” Keith started.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks. A lot. I mean it. I really owe you one, dude.” Pidge smiled.

“No problem. Anything for a friend. I mean, we are friends, right?” Keith waved it off.

“Oh, yeah. Totally,” Pidge laughed, “maybe not before, but you really saved my skin back there. I mean, that was awesome.”

“Okay, good,” Keith grinned, “because you’re sort of one of the coolest people I know, and I’d hate to be on your bad side.”

“Ditto,” Pidge punched him lightly in the arm.

“But Katie?”

“You can call me Pidge, you know.”

“Okay then. Pidge?”

“Yeah?”

“Not that it’s any of my business, but, if I may ask, why are you hiding it?”

“Well,” Pidge hesitated, “I just. It happened Spring break last year, y’know? And so much shit happened on that vacation. I mean, there were concerts, jellyfish stings, there was a chicken at one point; It was fucking wild. And that doesn’t even come close to all that happened. I mean, Shiro had just lost your guy’s dad, not to mention an arm. Plus Lance met that girl he won’t shut up about.”

“Oh. I suppose that makes sense-”

“And I would have said something afterwards but, I dunno.  A shitload of other stuff happened, and it just. It never seemed like the right time. And Lance would totally freak out if he found out. Not in like, a bad way, but like, in a super affectionate big brother type way.”

“I could definitely see that.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna tell them, I really am, I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Again, not like it’s my business or anything, but like, life changing adventure road trips seem like an excellent time to reveal this sort of thing.”

“I guess,” Pidge sighed, “I guess that’s true. God, you and your insidious logic.”

“Oh, wow, you’re so optimistic. A ray of sunshine is what you are,” Keith rolled his eyes, “see you back at the car.”

“Ditto.”

* * *

 

Keith didn’t know what compelled him to ask about the origin story of the devil ferret, but hey, intense boredom forces you to do strange things.

“So, why the name Apollo?” He asked nobody in particular. Hunk’s eyes lit up.

“Well, Pidge and I picked him out together,” Hunk explained, “we agreed to share him, since we both liked him the best. And we both loved the name Apollo, Pidge because of Apollo 11, and me because of the god of music.”

“Cool. Though, if we’re going with names based on Greek myths, Hades would probably be much more fitting,” Keith joked.

“Why’s that?” Hunk snapped up.

“Uh-oh,” Lance groaned.

“Well, first off, he’s pure evil. Second off, he’s strong as all fuck,” Keith elaborated.

“Dude, when was the last time you studied mythology?” Hunk furrowed his brow, “Persephone is the one to fear in Olympus.”

“The…” Keith couldn’t help but laugh, “the flower chick? Are you cereal?”

“You’ve done it now,” Lance shook his head, “poor sap.”

“Pidge, hold Apollo,” Hunk ordered, “I’m about to educate this motherfucker.”

* * *

 

After a loooong ass lesson about Greek mythology (Most of the information Keith retained being how Hades was more a hot mess than a god), a Go-Karting session in which Keith schooled Lance, and some nasty gas station sushi, Keith found himself having another night shift with Lance. He may or may not still have been salty, but whatever.

“So, Keith,” Lance started, crunching down corn nuts. Keith, being the petty, immature asshole he was, ignored Lance, “aw c’mon. You’re not seriously upset, are you?”

“Oh, Lance suddenly retains his memory once there’s nobody for him to talk to except for me,” Keith rolled his eyes, “It’s a freaking miracle.”

“I am familiar to sarcasm, Keith,” Lance stuck his tongue out.

“No but seriously. In the words of Plato, what the actual fuck, dude?”

“Well…..” Lance drifted off.

“Yes?”

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?” Lance finally said.

“Uh, sure?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, so you’re supposed to be my rival, right?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Well, anyway, if I were to tell everyone that I had a soul searching bond fest with you….”

“The entire planet would spontaneously combust?” Keith guessed.

“Keith!”

“Okay, okay. What?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Lance groaned.

“That would be helpful, yes.”

“I just don’t want Pidge to think I’ve gone soft. Y’know, suddenly liking my rival and all.”

“Lance?” Keith nearly bursted out laughing.

“What?”

“I think that’s a conclusion that Pidge has jumped to on her own.”

“Thanks. That’s real nice, Keith. ”

“I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just don’t think she sees you as some intimidating role model.”

“You could be a motivational speaker,” Lance rolled his eyes.

“I think she sees you as more of like, a big brother than anything.”

“But I want to be an intimidating big brother,” Lance whined.

“Hey, at least you make her laugh a lot.”

“Yeah. Yeah!” Lance perked up, “I make her laugh all the time! I’m awesome at it!”

“You sure are, Lance.”

“Does this mean we’re cool?”

“Well….”

“Come on. I know I kind of embarrassed you, but in my defense, you did throw a ferret at my neck, so.”

“Again, I panicked.”

“But we’re even?” Lance asked. Keith sighed. “C’mon, Shirogane, you know you can’t stay mad at me.”

“Fine. We’re even.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But you still owe me for the chipped tooth from that beer pong game.”

“Gee,” Lance laughed, “any chance you’ll throw another ferret at me?”

“Slim to none.”

“Will paying for breakfast suffice?” Lance asked. Keith’s breath caught in his chest. So maybe it wasn’t technically a date, but it still made Keith’s heart skip a beat. This goddamn beautiful asshole was going to kill him.

“Yeah. Get me an Egg McMuffin and we are totally even.”

“Awesome.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like, 90% dialogue imo  
> Also oooooo Pidge has a girlfriend (I may or may not have to write a oneshot based on that Spring break eventually)  
> As always, thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment!  
> My tumblr URL if y'all wanna come say hi:  
> moonsofmercury.tumblr.com  
> And the song that leads into this chapter, which has become this fic's theme song (Satellite by All Time Low):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zueQ7Hz7l8s


	5. The One With the Flashback

_Somethin' filled up My heart with nothin',_

_Someone told me not to cry._

_Now that I'm older, My heart's colder,_

_And I can see that it's a lie._

Lance had picked the diner. Keith hadn’t set out to let him pick; in fact, it was quite the opposite. They had bickered about it for nearly twenty minutes. It was Keith’s apology breakfast, so he should get to choose. No, no. That was ridiculous. Lance was paying. The boys fired off back and forth until they had decided to settle it with a little competition.

“Two truths, one lie,” Lance had suggested.

“You’re on!” Keith smirked.

“Okay, I go first,” Lance rubbed his hands together, “hmm. Let me think.”

“I’m sorry, I thought we wanted to finish this _today_ ,” Keith challenged, but there wasn’t any bite to it.

“Fine, fine,” Lance sighed, “okay. I took a semester abroad in Italy, I know American Sign Language and I can tie a knot in a cherry stem with my tongue.”

“Well,” Keith paused, “the first one is obviously the lie.”

“Crap. What gave it away?”

“You’re too broke to take a semester abroad.”

“Well, no shit, Sherlock.”

“Fuck you Watson,” Keith retorted, “you asked.”

“Okay, your turn.”

“Alright. I’ve never been surfing my entire life, Shiro took ballet for three years in high school, and, um…..My first cat was named Sprinkles.”

“You’re first cat was named Robin, because you wanted a sidekick just like Batman,” Lance grinned.

“Damn it! How much has my brother told you?”

“Just enough, dear Keith, just enough,” Lance patted Keith’s head, “you’ve also had a grey tabby named Moth, and your current cat is a calico named Ramsay.”

“That does not make me feel better.”

“Wasn’t supposed to. Now, it is once again my turn. My dog’s name is Harvey, I'm the youngest in my family biologically but I have an adopted little sister, and I’ve seen every episode of Wings 36 times.”

“How the hell am I supposed to guess that? Personal questions are outlawed.”

“Right, because I saw them ask ‘what was the name of Keith’s first cat’ on Jeopardy last week,” Lance rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean. I don’t hang out with your siblings every day, unlike you with mine,” Keith pointed out, “you must have gotten the best blackmail from Shiro.”

“You know, Keith, has it ever occurred to you that I know all of these things about you because I _like_ you?” Lance asked. It sort of went silent. No, no it had not occurred to Keith. And it was continuing to not occur to Keith, because Keith’s brain might have short circuited just then.

“I guess not,” Keith squeaked out. _Holy shit Keith, you are pathetic. Not now gay thoughts, you need to focus,_ he thought.

“Are you ever going to answer?”

“Um,” Keith tried to think. What were the options? He finally spoke, “first one?”

“No, Keith. My dog is named Harvey,” Lance grinned, triumphantly, “But I haven’t seen every episode of Wings 36 times. I always skip over season 3.”

“That’s not fair!” Keith protested.

“You snooze you lose, tough guy,” Lance actually booped him on the nose.

* * *

 

So, yeah. That’s how Lance wound up picking the restaurant for Keith’s apology breakfast. It was a nice diner, at the very least. They picked a booth in the back and took a look at the menus.

“Chicken and gravy,” Keith licked his lips, “sounds delicious.”

“It sounds like a heart attack waiting to happen,” Lance retorted.

“A delicious heart attack,” Keith grinned. Before Lance could respond, Hunk, Shiro and Pidge came bursting through the doors. _So much for date,_ Keith thought. He did admit though, he was at least a little happy to see them.

“What’s shakin’ bacon?” Pidge asked as she slid in next to Keith.

“Pidge, you know that you lost your privilege to use that expression,” Lance teased.

“Bullshit! Since when?” Pidge demanded as she scooted over to make room for Shiro.

“You don’t even _eat_ bacon,” Lance pointed out.  

“So I can’t use an expression containing it?” Pidge raised an eyebrow.

“Yes!” Lance elbowed Hunk in the ribs, “Back me up, dude.”

“He does have a point,” Hunk agreed, “and ow!”

“He has got nothing of the sort!” Pidge shouted.

“It’s not a very good point, but it’s a point,” Hunk continued.

“I will not stand for this raging homophobia!” Pidge roared.

“Pidge, get off the table!” Shiro grabbed her wrist to pull her down.

“What the hell does this have to do with being gay?” Lance asked.

“I am gay, and this is irritating me,” Pidge explained.

“Not one single person at this table is straight,” Lance pointed out.

“Now _that_ is a good point,” Hunk chimed in.

“You can be bi or pan and still be homophobic, you assholes,” Pidge argued, “right, Keith?”

“Of course you can,” Lance interjected, “but if that is to be your argument, you’re going to have to cut it out with this ridiculous biphobia.”

“Touche,” Pidge slumped back into her chair.

“What can I get y’all to drink?” the waitress asked, her eyes were wide, and Keith reckoned she had heard the entire conversation. After everyone had ordered, she stalked away slowly, shaking her head as she walked.

“Well, that went well,” Keith murmured.

“Waitresses have heard us say worse,” Shiro assured.

“Somehow, that’s comforting,” Keith rolled his eyes, and promptly turned them back to the menu.

* * *

 

Their orders came fairly slowly, given how empty the restaurant was. Keith gave the cook the benefit of the doubt though, as he dug into his chicken. And that was when shit hit the fan.

“Pidge,” Hunk sounded nervous, “what exactly are you doing with the ranch dressing?”

“I’m gonna dress my fries,” Pidge answered.

“Yeah, Hunk,” Shiro chirped, “we can’t have the fries running around naked.” Keith resisted the urge to stab Shiro with his fork for that horrible joke.

“But that’s what ketchup is for,” Hunk, thinking she just couldn’t reach it, started to hand the Heinz to Pidge.

“No thanks,” Pidge waved him off, “I like fries with ranch.” And with that, she turned the bottle upside down and squirted ranch on top of all the fries.

“You contaminated the whole batch!” Lance shrieked.

“Well, at least I know you won’t be stealing any of them,” Pidge turned her attention towards the mullet man, “Keith, you want any?” Keith shrugged and took a handful of fries.

“You’ve turned Keith to your evil ways,” Hunk gasped.

“Oh, good God,” Pidge groaned, “they are french fries, Hunk.”

“Actually,” Shiro interjected “while you’ve got the bottle, will you pass me the ketchup?” Hunk handed him the Heinz, only realizing his mistake a split second too late. The only thing left on his plate was an order of scrambled eggs with cheese. And. No. That couldn’t be right. Hunk was seeing things, plain and simple. But it appeared as if Shiro had already drenched his eggs in maple syrup. The horror, the shock everyone at the table felt as Shiro poured ketchup on top of his eggs. Which would already be disgusting, but combined with maple syrup?

“What the whole entire fuck,” Lance gasped as Shiro mixed the whole thing up into a huge pile of yuck, “are you doing to those poor eggs.”

“What? It’s good!” Shiro protested at the looks of distress around him, “don’t knock it till you try it.”

“That’s it!” Hunk shouted, as he gathered up all of the condiments to take to another table, “you vile humans have lost your condiment privileges.”

“DAMN IT HUNK GET BACK HERE!” Shiro hollered as he flung himself out of the booth.

“How does your brother eat this garb?” Pidge asked as she scrunched up her nose.

“I think four years straight of nothing but ramen and Trix cereal has permanently ruined his taste buds,” Keith shrugged, “this isn’t even the grossest I’ve seen him eat.”

“Do I even _want_ to know?” Lance asked.

“Probably not. Let’s just say Thanksgiving was not pretty,” Keith shuddered, thinking of the gooey cranberry-mashed potato-green bean mess that he had been forced to watch his brother eat.

“The man who taught me to drive, ladies and gentlemen,” Pidge gestured at Shiro.

“And he didn’t do a very good job of that, either,” Lance mumbled, earning a glare from Pidge.

“You’re just jealous because-” suddenly Pidge stopped herself.

“Is something wrong, Pidge?” Keith asked. She scrunched up her nose.

“What the hell is this music?” She demanded, looking for the source of this hell music. There, in the corner of the diner, was an old fashioned juke box.

“What’s wrong with the beach boys?” Lance questioned, “my grandparents love them.”

“Your grandparents clearly have an underdeveloped taste in music,” Pidge insisted, “Keithy boy, go be a lamb and pick out something that doesn’t sound like it was recorded in a dumpster.”

“Why do I have to do it?” Keith protested.

“I don’t feel like doing it myself,” she explained, and popped several more french fries into her mouth. _Fine,_ Keith gave in. He wasn’t going to argue with her. He had, after all, just gotten on her good side to begin with. He walked over to the juke, popped in fifty cents and started scrolling through the songs. It was far less outdated than it appeared, probably having had been manufactured in the mid eighties; there were songs all the way up to eighties hair bands. Speaking of eighties hair bands….

“Shiro,” Keith grinned, “they have _the_ song here.”

“ _The_ song? Are you sure?” Shiro asked as he wrestled a bottle of relish from Hunk.

“Oh yeah, I’m sure,” Keith pushed the magic button and the song began slowly blaring through the speakers. Shiro started bobbing his head and tapping his feet; though it didn’t take long for him to be full out jamming, bad 80’s dance moves and all. And it must be true what they say about rhythm being infectious, because Keith started dancing along too.

“People are staring, you dinguses!” Pidge shouted.

“C’mon, Katie cat, you know you’re dying to join in,” Shiro insisted, pulling her out from the booth with an invisible lasso.

“Katie cat? Are you serious?” Pidge quirked an eyebrow.

“As a heart attack,” Shiro grinned, “this song is radical dudes!”

“You are such a dad,” Pidge groaned, but she was tapping her finger to the beat.

“Don’t be baggin’ on me,” Shiro joked.

“I may need a doggy bag to spill my guts if you don’t stop with the eighties slang,” Pidge retorted.

“A risk I am willing to take,” Shiro laughed. He grabbed Pidge’s wrist and forced her to participate in the cringe that was this whole thing. By the second chorus, everyone had joined in.

“ _My, my, my I’m once bitten twice shy baby,_ ” the song blared loudly throughout the diner. Everyone was laughing like hyenas, oblivious or apathetic to the glares from other customers. At one point, Lance actually spun Keith around.

This was the kind of thing Keith missed about hanging out with them. When they were all together, they had these perfect moments, straight out of a cheesy movie about friendship. And man, Keith loved it. _You could hang out with them more often when the trip is over,_ Keith reminded himself, _nothing is stopping you._ Except there were a whole fuck-ton of things stopping him. He hated how he did this. How he could be enjoying a perfect moment and all of a sudden it isn’t so perfect, and it’s like he’s on the outside looking in. Why had he let everything get so fucked up?

Whatever. The song was over, and so was the moment.  

* * *

 

Pidge slid into the driver’s seat, clearly excited to drive for the whole day.

“Yo, Keith,” She honked the horn, “come sit by me. I need someone to play the license plate game with.”

“Since when are you so buddy buddy with Keith?” Lance asked.

“Since we realized we’re the coolest people in the car, and that we should probably stick together,” Pidge elbowed Keith in the arm, “right Keith?”

“Yeah,” Keith smiled.

“Right. I’m so sure,” Lance rolled his eyes.

“Well, for whatever the reason, I’m glad the two of you are getting along,” Hunk chimed in.

“Me too,” Shiro added.

“The two of you ought to be, like, sidekicks for each other,” Hunk continued, “you both love cult classics, you both have awesome taste in music, you’re both convinced that the moon landing was faked-”

“Oh God,” Lance interrupted, “I’m begging you. Please don’t get them started.”

“Don’t worry, Lance, we’re not gonna go off on a rant while we’re in the car,” Pidge assured, starting the car.

“Victory!” Lance shouted.

“There will be plenty of time for that once we get to New York and we can compare notes,” Keith interjected.

“Yeah,” Pidge agreed, “like half of my desktop is evidence that Nessie exists.”

“We get it, Pidge, you’re in love with the Loc Ness Monster,” Lance teased.

“I never said I was in love with her, Lance,” Pidge protested, “I merely admire her as a creature able to stump scientists for hundreds of years.”

“Riiiiiight,” Lance crossed his arms, “so when’s the wedding?” Pidge flipped him the bird.

“No need to be vulgar, Pidge,” Shiro’s tone was stern, but there was a small smirk on his face.

“There is _always_ a need to be vulgar,” Pidge argued.

“Well, I hope you clean up your act in front of Allura at least,” Shiro lectured.

“Yeah, I forgot. We have to be perfect for your perfect friends,” Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Pidge, we’ve been over this,” Shiro cautioned.

“Isn’t Allura the same person who swears to the point where every other word out of her mouth is ‘fuck’?” Pidge tightened her grip on the wheel, “If she doesn’t have to clean up her act, than neither do we.”

“Katie-” Shiro started.

“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, I forgot we need permission before we have fun for five seconds,” she was joking, but there was venom in her tone, “My apologies for not accounting for the stick up your ass.”

“Katie!” Shiro gritted his teeth.

“All I’m saying is, I don’t need you policing every goddamn thing that comes out of my mouth, alright? I have my parents for that. _You_ are supposed to be my friend, not my dad.”

“I _am_ your friend. I just think that-”

“What? You just think that what? We’re not good enough for her? We’re not good enough for you? You met new friends who are so fucking amazing that your standards for us are about a mile above where they used to be?”

“Damn it, Katie!” Shiro shouted, “why do you have to take everything I say and twist it around to make me look like-”

“Pidge, the road!” Hunk shrieked. There, about fifteen feet ahead of them, a deer was running across the highway.

It was too late to slam on the brakes. _We’re gonna die,_ Keith thought. The car erupted into screams. Quick as she possibly could, Pidge jerked the wheel to the right. It was at this point, Keith hit his head on the dash. Hard. He didn’t lose consciousness, which was strange, but stranger than that was the fact that he was alive to consider how strange it was. The car was now on grass, to the side of the highway, and they managed to miss the deer. Barely. Pidge halted the car.

“Holy shit!” She whipped her head around, “Is everybody okay?”

“I’m alri-” whatever Hunk was about to say was interrupted by a need to spill his guts. He clamped his mouth shut and held up an “ok” sign as he stroked Apollo.

“I’m fine,” Lance squeaked.

“I’m,” Shiro sighed, “I’m okay too.”

And so was Keith. Except for the fact that he had stopped breathing. He felt like he was underwater, distant and floating. Everyone was so far away. Images of a shattered windshield, white knuckles from hanging on too tight to the wheel and a bleeding chin. He could still hear the cracking of his humorous from hitting his arm so hard against the door. Keith tasted copper. His eyes were frozen open, and his hands were shaking. He was starting to turn blue.

“Keith!” Pidge held onto his shoulders, “Keith. Man. Breathe. It’s okay. We’re alive.” Keith did as he was told. His breaths were short and sharp, but that was better than nothing.

“I think” he paused to gasp for air, “I think I’m okay.”

“Good,” Pidge looked relieved and then worried once more, “dude, you’re bleeding.” Keith instinctively touched his forehead, and sure enough, there was a gaping gash. The funny thing was that he hadn’t even felt it before, but now that Pidge pointed it out, it hurt like fucking hell.

“All in favor of taking a fifteen minute rest?” Shiro asked.

“Aye.” everyone chanted, hoarse and shaken.

* * *

 

Pidge clenched her jaw. She was on the verge of tears, she knew it. But she had to keep it together.

“Hey,” she greeted Shiro. Her voice was small.

“Hey,” Shiro forced a smile, “listen, Katie-”

“We could have died,” Pidge whispered.

“But we didn’t,” Shiro reminded her.

“We could have died,” she repeated, “we almost did.”

“But-”

“I know,” Pidge’s voice broke. Tears rolled down her face, “but what if we hadn’t?”

“Pidge. Don’t even-”

“And, and, and. If we did,” She managed to say between sobs, “my last words to you. They were so awful.” Shiro pulled her into a hug.

“Shhh,” he stroked her hair.

“I’m so sorry Shiro,” she blubbered, “I’m so sorry I said those horrible things.”

“It’s okay,” Shiro cooed, “we’re okay. I’m not mad.”

“I really am an awful driver,” Pidge laugh-sobbed.

“True,” Shiro smiled, “but you’re improving. A year ago you would have frozen up and we would have been goners.”

“R-really?” Pidge sniffed.

“Really.”

“Shiro?”

“Yes?”

“If we had crashed, and, and I had died-”

“Don’t.”

“If…..If we had crashed and I had died, and, and you had lived, would you hate me?”

“Pidge. There is nothing on God’s green Earth that could ever make me hate you.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

* * *

 

The rest of the day’s mood was a mix of euphoria and melancholy, truly a strange combination. They had seen the Volkswagon Beetle, and taken plenty of pictures, they had eaten disgusting Lunchables, and finally, as this strange, weird day came to a close, they made it to their destination of the night. It was, of course, closed, but that didn’t matter. They had planned on camping out anyway. And camp out they did. Though uncomfortable and, quite possibly, illegal the campsite was, it was almost magical. Nobody was fighting, it was a beautiful night, and the crickets were chirping.

“Keith!” Lance shouted as he sat down next to the mulleted boy.

“Hey,” Keith smiled, “where’s Hunk?”

“Oh,” Lance’s smile faded, “Um….He’s in the car. Video chatting with one of his moms.”

“Ah. I see. I was wondering why you weren’t hanging out with him,” Keith explained.

“Oh. Well, um. Yeah,” Lance picked at a tuft of grass.

“Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“If we had crashed, what would your last thought have been?” Keith asked.

“Honestly? A combination of frantic praying and ‘shitfuckingshitfuck’.” Lance answered.

“Huh,” was all Keith managed to say. It went silent.

“And you?”

“And me what?”

“What would your last thought have been?”

“Um…..I think it was something along the lines of ‘we’re gonna die’ over and over again.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Keith echoed.

“So Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“You, um…...not that it’s any of my business but do you um….do you believe in an afterlife?”

“Well, sure. Ghosts and shit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Ghosts and shit. But I was thinking more along the lines of like, do you believe in heaven and god and all that.”

“Oh.”

“And?”

“You want the honest answer?” Keith swallowed thickly.

“Yeah.”

“Not lately,” Keith lowered his voice.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you used to believe in God?”

“I mean, when I was a kid I did. I think. Maybe. I dunno. Maybe I just wanted to believe, but I never actually, you know, believed.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah. But what makes you bring it up?’

“I don’t know. Just. I know your brother is religious and from what I’ve heard, your mom is too. I was just curious.”

“Lance?”

“Hmm?”

“What about you? Do you believe in, you know, all that stuff?”

“Well, yeah. I’ve always believed,” he paused, “Well, actually, that’s not true. There was a period of time where I didn’t. I think it was, like, six months. But I don’t think I actually ever stopped believing. I was more so angry at the universe for a while.”

“Lance?”

“Yes?”

“Was this…..was this right after….you know.”

“Yeah. I was mad because the universe took her away from me,” Lance confessed.

“So what changed?”

“I think I realized it was better for me to believe in something.”

“Ah.”

“But I also know that it’s better for some other people to just focus on what’s happening here and now. And not, you know, the beyond.”

“You know something, Lance?”

“What?”

“I think you know more about shit than most people ever will.”

“Th-thank you.” Their eyes locked. Their faces were inches apart. Keith would hardly have to move at all to kiss him. This was ridiculous. It was ridiculous that he was sharing so much with Lance. It was ridiculous that he was starting to fall for someone who was chasing after someone else. A girl. An amazing girl, according to Lance. How he was starting to fall for someone who was his self proclaimed rival. Who he probably wasn’t going to hang out with much, if at all, after the trip. This whole thing was ridiculous, and he needed to stop immediately.

“I’m gonna go, um,” Keith gestured behind himself, “I’m gonna go see what Pidge is doing.”

“Oh,” Lance sighed. Keith stood up, and just like that, another perfect moment was gone. It was for the best, Keith reminded himself. Keith bit his lip as he made a promise to himself not to look back.

* * *

 

Hunk sat in the back row of the shitstain, grinning as his momma recounted the events of her week. She had insisted that he tell her of his week first, and only after he had given the most detailed description of what had happened throughout the trip so far (carefully leaving out the near death experience) had his momma allowed herself to speak.

“And Alix and I talked for hours about how wonderful you are and how much we all missed you,” Christina continued.

“Momma!” Hunk screeched, “They did not. You are lying through your teeth.”

“Well of course they did, sweetie, Alix has had the hugest crush on you since you were kids!”

“They have a boyfriend. You need to quit trying to set us up,” Hunk scolded.

“But aren’t they-What’s it called, polygonal?”

“Polyamorous, momma,” Hunk rolled his eyes, “and not as far as I remember.”

“I am telling you, they just adore you!”

“Are you making this up?”

“No….”

“Momma!”

“Well, maybe I’m embellishing just a touch,” Christina laughed, “I can’t help it! Matchmaking is in our blood! It’s the Garrett gene!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hunk sighed.

“Speaking of, how are things going with your friend Lance and his gentleman caller?”

“I’d hardly call Keith Shirogane a gentleman caller. In fact, I’d hardly call him a gentleman in general.”

“Tsuyoshi!”

“He’s great. He’s just kind of a hot mess is all.”

“And Lance?”

“Lance is totally oblivious about Keith’s feelings, as usual,” Hunk sighed.

“That Lance. Wonderful boy, but sometimes I worry for him.”

“Believe me, I do too,” Hunk glanced over to where Keith and Lance were sitting. They were smiling. They were so close together, too. Lance was looking at the sky, but Keith was looking at Lance. Maybe, just maybe, if Lance looked back on time to see Keith staring-

“Hunk!”

“Oh! Sorry. I got distracted. I was gonna say though. They are bonding. A lot, actually. Usually all they do is bicker but….something about being on the open road together, I think it’s bringing them together.”

“One can only hope,” Hunk sighed.

“So, Hunk,” Christina grinned, “any possible suitors knocking at the door of opportunity lately?”

“That’s so cheesy,” Hunk laughed.

“Be that as it may, it is a question that needs answering.”

“Well,” Hunk felt himself blush, “there is one girl.”

“I knew it!” She clapped her hands together triumphantly, “Tell me all about her!”

“Well, she’s smart and sweet and pretty….”

“Very nice! Does this girl have a name?”

“Her name,” Hunk sighed, “is Shay. She plays in Allura’s band.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to tell her you like her?”

“M-maybe,” Hunk was blushing even harder than before.

“This vacation would be a perfect time to tell her!”

“Momma!”

“What?”

“You are more invested in my personal life than I am,” he laughed.

“Maybe so,” she agreed, “I just miss you very much.”

“I miss you too. Every single day.”

“Do not fret, son. Soon you will have graduated, and you can come back here, where you belong,” Christina assured him. Hunk sighed. His eyes found their way back to where Lance and Keith had been sitting. Now Lance was alone. He was hugging his knees, and he had his arms covering his face. His mother was right. The home is where the heart is, right?

Home was white, sandy beaches and summers spent swimming all day until he came home, fingers wrinkled and stomach grumbling for his mother’s home cooking. Home was searching for adventure in his own backyard. Home was his moms. His pets. His cousins.

But lately, home was bad karaoke contests where Shiro sung the cheesiest music on his ipod at the top of his lungs until everyone begged him to stop. Home was movie nights every saterday with cheap beer where they all struggled to fit together on Lance’s tiny couch. Home was water balloon fights on the roof with the frat guys from across the way. Home was life changing road trips with his best friends.

“Yeah,” Hunk mumbled, “where I belong.”

* * *

 

Keith could not and did not want to believe that his brother would spend five hours in a car museum. Given, it was a very large museum, but really? Did Shiro have to have a picture next to every single car in the damn place?

Apparently, the answer was yes. It was nearly 5:00pm (closing time!) before they left the museum. And Keith had no doubt in his mind that if it hadn’t been closing, Shiro would have stayed all night. They finally got back in the shit stain, and got ready to take off. He smiled at Lance as he climbed into the row behind Lance. Lance smiled back, but it seemed like sort of a forced smile. Long story short, Keith had fucked up.

* * *

 

Hunk was driving, which meant things were the most bearable music wise. None of them would ever admit it, but they all knew that Hunk had the best taste in music out of all of them. He liked stuff from every genre (and I do mean every genre) and somehow all of the songs blended together seamlessly. He could go from Mother Mother to We The Kings without the transition seeming weird. Keith made a mental note to ask for music recs from him before the trip ended.

* * *

 

They had made a pit stop for gas just after 5 30. They were in the middle of who-the-fuck-knowsville USA. Somewhere in Indiana, Pidge said. Well whatever. It was still the middle of nowhere. And the middle of nowhere is not where you want your car to break down, especially when it’s getting dark. Which was why when Hunk turned the key and the engine didn’t start, absolutely everyone panicked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not a fluffy ending to this chapter lmao please don't kill me. We're getting into the real angst of the story so fasten your seatbelts. (Chapter six is already slowly killing me)  
> Anywho  
> The song that leads into this chapter (Wake up by Arcade Fire):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zdNdjF-htY  
> The song that plays in the diner (Once bitten Twice Shy by Great White aka the cringe song):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bz61YQWZuYU  
> My tumblr URL if you wanna come yell at me:  
> moonsofmercury.tumblr.com  
> As always, thanks for reading, and feel free to leave a comment!


	6. Until it all falls down

_Until the night falls,_

_we’re the only ones left_

_I bet you even know where we could go_

_And when it all fucks up_

_You put your head in my hands_

_It’s a souvenir_

_For when you go_

 

Camping out again had been Pidge’s idea. Shiro had resisted at first, but Pidge did bring up some valid points. All of the tow truck companies were closed, for one thing. For another thing, it was getting dark, and you couldn’t very well fix a car with no light. So camp out they did, right smack dab in the middle of who-the-fuck-caresville USA. (Elkheart, according to the GPS system on Pidge’s phone). Since they couldn’t sleep on the dirt on the side of the highway, the five of them had opted to sleep in the car. Pidge had called dibs on the entire wayback, which left everyone else fiddling with the car seats to find a remotely comfortable position. Hint: they didn’t.

Keith was curled up on the floor of the wayback. Hunk slept on the seats of the middle row, while Lance slept on the floor. Shiro had insisted on being the one to sleep in the front, as it was the most uncomfortable. He had three equally uncomfortable options. One was to sleep sitting up. Another was to sleep on the floor, with the emergency brake stabbing into his back. The third involved planking across the seats, gear shift jabbing at his stomach. He opted for the first, and arguably least painful, option.

The whole car was silent, save for Hunk’s slight snore and crickets chirping. This sucked. Nobody could move, lest they wanted to wake someone else up. At about 1 00 am, Lance gave up trying to sleep. Keith hadn’t even started trying to sleep in the first place.

So, there they were. Both awake, alone with their thoughts. Neither of them had any idea that the other one was awake, though the tension was still high. Lance was left to wonder what exactly he did wrong. He knew that him and Keith weren’t exactly best friends or anything, but they _had_ been getting along pretty much since the start of the trip….right? It wasn’t Lance’s imagination, was it? It couldn’t be. They had talked pretty much all night at two points. Had he given Keith the wrong idea? Come off too strong? They had soul searched. They had. There was no denying that. But maybe….maybe Keith had just been so desperate to talk to someone about how he felt. Maybe it was just that Lance was there. That Lance was convenient. Maybe it’s easier to talk about stuff that really bugs you to people who you’re not obligated to talk to ever again.

Keith was in the same boat of “i fucked up” sirens blaring in his head until he couldn’t think about anything else. Except he was the one who had been a jerk. So what, though? It was better this way. This trip. it was….a mirage. Everything seemed so perfect, though Keith knew there were underlying issues. Things left unsaid, arguments that nobody was having. And Keith…..and _someone_ was going to shatter the illusion if he got too close. Everything would come flying back around, hitting everyone full force. All because Keith couldn’t stay in his own lane. No, he wasn’t going to do risk that.

* * *

 

There was, in fact, a point in time where Keith actually did feel like he belonged to the group. Before everything had gotten so fucked up, Keith was actually a big part of the group. In fact, Half of it wouldn’t even exist without him.

September 24th, 2015. The day he met Lance. The day that started everything. Knowing that Shiro was busy, probably leafing through his textbook like the studious nerd he was. He and Matt were probably making a date of it. Which left Keith alone, wandering campus. He remembered his roommate mentioning a party they were going to. So, was Keith going to ask his roommate if he could tag along? Of course not! No, showing up uninvited to someone’s party was a much better idea. And so, that’s exactly what Keith did.

Only, he wasn’t counting on a handsome asshole challenging him to beer pong. Keith had won, causing Lance to announce that there had been something in his eye, and furthermore caused him to demand a rematch. This time Keith had lost, so he demanded a rematch as well. Lather, rinse, repeat, until the party ended.

Another thing Keith hadn’t counted on? That the next party they were at together, they would pick up where they left off. It became kind of routine; every time they were at a party together? Beer pong games out the ass. It was never ending.

It certainly didn’t help when Keith found out that Lance was a barista at Shiro’s favorite coffee place. And, of course, Keith had complained to no end about this asshole. So something totally horrific happened. Shiro befriended Lance. They all started hanging out together, (albeit against Keith’s will), and the rest was history.

But that was before. Before the car accident, before their dad died, before Shiro and Matt broke up. Keith had been five times the person he was now. Everything had stripped away at him, until he was just a shadow of who he used to be. And everyone else? They thought of him as the way he had been. Why shatter the illusion, right?

* * *

 

“Keith,” Shiro repeated, exasperation in his voice, “are you going to get up here and help me fix this?”

“No way,” Keith shook his head.

“I could help,” Hunk chimed in, “I know a thing or two about mechanics.”

“That’s very nice of you to offer, Hunk,” Shiro smiled, “I would let you help, but the Schwarzenegger is so temperamental. It’s probably best if only people who know her inside and out help,” Shiro stroked the side of the car door. Oh, brother.

“You can’t do this by yourself?” Pidge demanded.

“Not if we want to get to New York near on time, I can’t,” Shiro answered.

“Sorry, big bro,” Keith sighed, “It’s about time this coffin on wheels finally took a shit for good. We don’t want to extend her life past what she was meant to live.”

“To hell we don’t!” Shiro shouted, “A.) this car is a family relic and b.) How the hell do you plan on getting home without a car?”

“Touche,” Keith grumbled, climbing out of the car. Shiro smiled triumphantly as he handed Keith a wrench.

“This had better not take too much longer,” Lance complained, fifteen minutes into the whole charade.

“Why do you care?” Pidge cocked an eyebrow, “We’ll get to New York either way. It’s just that Shiro will have less time to drool over Allura's hot friends.”

“Oh, no, you’re right,” Lance rolled his eyes, “because sitting in a car for an extra day is so desirable.”

“He’s right,” Hunk agreed, “my ass has been asleep since day one.”

“TMI.” Pidge scrunched up her nose. Though, now that she thought about it, her ass was asleep too. Lance sighed. Well, this was boring. He got out of the car to get some fresh air, because even though fresh air was also boring, it was still, you know, _fresh_. But then Lance caught sight of something that made him stop dead in his tracks. That something was Keith. Now, Lance had always thought that Keith was hot. One had to be blind not to. But now? Oh. Dear. God. He had tied his jacket around his waist, exposing that he was wearing a fitted black tank top. He was wearing skinny jeans. I repeat, skinny jeans. He was bent over the manual, adjusting his glasses with his brow was knitted in concentration. His hair had been tied back into a glorious ponytail, exposing several earrings decorating Keith’s ears. And to top it all off? He was sweaty and covered in grease. Lance thought he might combust on the spot, and before he realized he’d been staring, Keith spoke.

“Can I….help you?” Keith raised an eyebrow.

“I, um,” _words, Lance, use your words_ , “I needed to ass you-”

“You needed to ass me,” Keith echoed.

“Ask!” Lance shouted, “I needed to ask you if you, um. If you wanted a, ummm…..SODA!”

“Sure?” Keith shrugged.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Lance continued.

“Yeah? I have to wear them when I’m working on the car,” Keith explained, “what about them?”

“Just that you should wear them more,” Lance answered. Keith looked confused. _Shitshitshitshit,_ “Just cause, you know, they make you look so dorky,” Lance smirked, and it took everything he had not to burst into flames. Or tears. Or both.

* * *

 

By two pm, The car was up and running again. On the road they were, their venture growing more exciting by the minute. And by exciting, I mean excruciatingly boring. Hey, at least there were road trip games. The license plate game was outlawed on the last road trip, because Pidge and Matt had fought about the rules. Pidge ruled that throughout the entire road trip, everyone could hit each other for any license plate that wasn’t an Oregon one. Matt ruled that was ridiculous, and proposed that whatever state they were in, they couldn’t hit each other for. They had argued, words were said, spaghetti was thrown, and long story short, they were asked never to return to that roadside diner again.

Still, Pidge was persistent, and furthermore enjoyed hitting people, so she came up with a new road trip game. It was kind of like “I spy” but with punching. See, everyone would take turns spotting stuff, in alphabetical order. If someone couldn’t find something that started with the letter they were given, the player next to them got to punch them in the arm as hard as they could. It was glorious.

“Okay, Keith,” Pidge smiled, a devilish smirk spreading across her face, “it’s your turn.”

“Shit. Okay,” Keith sat up straight, “what letter are we on?”

“X, dearest Keith,” Pidge answered in a singsong voice.

“X?” Keith groaned.

“She’s always, always, always sitting next to the person that gets X,” Hunk explained, “Lance and I have theories, most of them including some sort of witchcraft.”

“You believe in witchcraft, but you don’t believe-” Keith started.

“Oh, will you shut up about that already?” Lance grumbled.

“Fine, fine,” Keith sighed.

“Clock is ticking, Keithy boy,” Pidge smiled, “remember, once the minute is up, I get to punch you regardless.”

“That’s not a rule!” Keith protested, “Since when was that a rule?”

“Since I’m bored, asshole,” Pidge said matter-of-factly.

“Okay, okay. X.” Keith frantically looked around for something, anything that started with an x.

“Times up!” Pidge shouted, punching Keith in the arm.

“That hurt, you little shit,” Keith rubbed his arm.

“Sorry,” Pidge shrugged, “okay, onto Y. I spy a yield sign.”

“How is there always a yield sign when she needs it?” Lance demanded.

“Magic,” Pidge answered.

“And while we’re asking questions, what do we do if Shiro doesn’t see something? Nobody’s sitting next to him?” Keith asked.

“How about we don’t punch the driver, and I won’t leave you on the side of the highway,” Shiro suggested, “oh, and I spy a zit. Forgot to use my cream yesterday.”

“Who’s up for round two?” Pidge chimed in. This was gonna be a long day.

* * *

 

Before Keith could figure out what exactly was so special about a giant fucking soup can, Shiro had gotten enough pictures to fill three of Ma’s scrapbooks.

“Shiro, that’s enough pictures,” Pidge groaned, “I’m sure your mom knows what you look like.”

“Just a few more,” Shiro protested.

“Dude, we have to stay on schedule,” Lance tugged at Shiro’s prosthetic, “you already delayed the trip enough with your stupid car.”

“Schwartzy is not stupid,” Shiro sputtered.

“Oh yes she is,” Lance argued.

“Name one stupid thing about her!” Shiro challenged.

“The ceiling’s rotting through,” Pidge pointed out.

“It gets horrible mileage,” Lance added.

“It doesn’t have a radio,” Hunk joined in.

“Hmmm,” Keith paused, “oh, I have a good one. It’s been breaking down six times a month since the eighties.”

“You’re lucky she can’t hear you,” Shiro gasped jokingly, “that car is the closest thing to a family heirloom we have.”

“We should probably give it a rest,” Keith mumbled, “he wouldn’t give this car up if it bursted into flames. I can just see it now. ‘Don’t you just love how versatile my car is, Keith? You can’t drive it anymore, but it’s perfect for roasting marshmallows’.”

“I resent that!” Shiro announced.

“Face it, Shiro. He’s right,” Pidge agreed, “maybe this trip is just one last hurrah for the Shitstain.”

“I could never retire her. She’s the perfect car,” Shiro glared at the mere suggestion.

“But, dude,” Lance chimed in, “again, it has been like this since the beginning of its existence. For goodness sake, it broke down when it was practically brand new.”

“That was a work of fate,” Shiro grinned.

“I really wish you would stop saying that,” Keith piped up.

“C’mon. You do have to admit, it is pretty spectacular that I exist because this car broke down,” Shiro elbowed Keith in the ribs.

“Well, that’s true. But I mean, if that was this pile of horse shit’s purpose, its been fulfilled. The job has been done,” Keith pointed out.

“How do you know?” Shiro was getting slightly irritated now, “The fact that it broke down yesterday could have been fate.”

“Shiro,” Keith breathed.

“I’m totally serious. What if something was going to-”

“ _Shiro_!”

“And it didn’t because the car broke down?”

“That’s not how-”

“I’m just saying, the entire family came together because of this car,” Shiro concluded, “it wouldn’t kill you to be grateful of that.”

“It almost did!” Keith retorted.

“Keith. Don’t,” Shiro growled.

“Are you trying to say that it was fate that the brakes stopped working in the middle of the intersection? That it was fate that I almost died?”

“But you didn’t, Keith, and isn’t that what-”

“Because if you ask me, that’s a pretty goddamn shitty thing to do,” Keith crossed his arms.

“Keith, I didn’t mean-”

“That’s enough, Keith!” Lance interjected.

“Yeah. I mean, he _was_ just joking around,” Hunk added, “there’s really no need to turn it into a huge fight.”

“You do know it’s your fault, don’t you?” Keith hissed, “That if you had retired your ‘precious baby’ and gotten a new car, you could have driven to the store with dad.”

“Don’t.” Shiro gritted his teeth, “don’t you fucking dare.”

“Dad would still be alive if it wasn’t for this stupid car,” Keith clenched his jaw, “the only person in the world who understood me is gone. But sure. Your car is fucking magical.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Shiro was calm. But a terrifying kind of calm. The kind where you hear fury in every syllable. The kind where you know that the other person is trying as hard as they can to hold themselves back. Keith had been Shiro’s brother for nineteen years. He had never, ever heard this tone.

“I am allowed to be angry, Takashi,” Keith was close to tears now.

“I know it hurts, Keith,” Shiro put a hand on his shoulder, “but it was his time to go. This isn’t good for us as a family. We have to believe that there’s nothing we could have-”

“Yeah. Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night,” Keith interrupted.

“Get in the fucking car, Keith,” Shiro growled. Keith saw Shiro’s eyes flicker with several emotions, none of which Keith could figure out. He wasn’t sure he wanted to stick around to find out what exactly these expressions meant. And with that, he climbed into the backseat of the very car that tore his family to shreds. He knew that the things he said were awful. He wanted to take them back as soon as they came out of his mouth. But he couldn’t. Who fucking cared? He wasn’t on this trip to make friends, anyway.

And then a thought, a horrible, horrible thought, entered Keith’s brain. He could start over in New York. What was stopping him, anyway? Keith had always thought that Shiro and their mom needed each other. Likewise, he always thought that him and his father needed each other. But now that Dad was gone? Nobody needed Keith.

And he didn’t need anybody, either.

* * *

 

It was hard for anybody to talk after that. They had three more designated stops to make before NYC, and Keith stayed in the car for all of them. It was pretty damn clear who everybody sided with. _Why wouldn’t they side with Shiro?_ Keith thought, bitterly. Shiro was actually friends with all of them. Shiro has always been there for them. Keith, on the other hand, had made an ass of himself at every opportunity. Who needed friends, right? Friendships never lasted. Someone always moved away. Someone always left. He didn’t need that. He didn’t. He was gonna prove it if it killed him.

* * *

 

At the ungodly hour of 1 17 in the fecking morning, the gang checked in to the Millennium Broadway hotel. They were finally in New York, but who cared? The important thing was sleep. And furthermore, sleep in an actual bed. Which was why at 10 00 am the next morning, the lead guitarist of Altean Renegade came to find five sleeping bodies in a hotel room. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is pure angst. please don't kill me.  
> Here's the song I used to lead into this chapter, in case you want to burst into tears. (The Mother We Share by CHVRCHES)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mTRvJ9fugM  
> As always, feel free to leave a comment and, you know, scream at me for this chapter on tumblr  
> (moonsofmercury.tumblr.com)


	7. Bittersweet Nostalgia

_For the life of me_

_I can not remember_

_What made us think_

_That we were wise_

_And we’d never compromise_

 

Allura arrived to the hotel that the gang was staying at at approximately nine am. She, of course, had been absolutely stoked that Shiro was coming. What she had not been so stoked for, however, was him bringing all of his closest friends along. Don’t get her wrong, all of his friends seemed really nice. Really really nice. And cool. But she sorta got the vibe that they didn’t really like her. Like, at all. Understandably so. I mean, they were all pretty close with each other. Protective, was all. Not exactly looking for new members to their little family. Which sort of put a lot of pressure on Allura. Pressure to be perfect. Which she just. Wasn’t.

No matter how perfect Shiro made her out to be (and she was pretty goddamn sure he put her on the highest possible pedestal, which didn’t help either), she was still just….Allura. Allura, who had not one, but two failed garage bands that sent nearly one thousand dollars of her father’s down the drain. Allura, who snorted when she laughed and sneezed like a dad with a permanent head cold. And yet, she was somehow supposed to pull the mannerisms of a proper young lady out her ass for the next five days so all the people who loved Shiro didn’t hate her anymore than they already did.

Of course, she _had_ felt better when she found out that Keith, Shiro’s brother, was replacing Matt on this whole escapade. On the one hand, he was just another person Allura had to work to impress, but at least he wasn't Shiro's best friend, ergo the most overprotective. And she was grateful for that, she really was. Still, she had to make a good first impression on Keith.

Which is exactly why the first thing she did was step on the poor boy's hand. Brilliant. Keith responded by, well, you wouldn't call it a scream. That was too normal a word for the noise that came out of Keith. It was more a screech, like air being slowly let out of a balloon. But it was also muffled, making the noise sound like two dying balloons fighting inside of a bag.

The good news was that, as a musician, that was not the strangest nor the most uncomfortable sound Allura had ever heard come out of a fellow human. The bad news: see above. Keith's eyes shot open, and it was at this point that Allura realized she was still standing on his hand. Once she corrected this error, Keith sat up in bed. Er, floor.

“You must be Keith,” Allura managed.

“You must be Allura,” Keith echoed as he rubbed his hand, “is that just how they shake hands in England?”

“No,” Allura laughed. It was a forced laugh. The kind of laugh one might emit from a constipated squirrel, but it was a laugh nonetheless, and it helped break the ice.

“Excellent first impression, by the way,” Keith chuckled.

“I am so so-” Allura started.

“Kidding,” Keith assured her.

“In my defense though, you were sleeping on the floor,” Allura pointed out.

“Not of my own choice,” Keith defended.

“Thanks for the clarification,” Allura smirked, “here I was, ready to assume that you enjoy sleeping on the floor, and continue to assume that for the duration of our potential friendship. I e, like a fool.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith rolled his eyes. He stood up.

“Is your hand okay?” Allura asked.

“It’s fine, not even close to the worst injury I’ve received,” Keith shrugged.

“Should I be concerned?” Allura raised an eyebrow, staring at the red swelling mess that was his hand at the moment.

“The life of a motorcyclist,” Keith sighed.

“Oh, yeah,” Allura scratched the back of her neck, “Shiro told me how much you love your motorcycle. What do you call it again? Red?”

“Rose,” Keith corrected, “it’s not the best name, but hey, it’s better than Schwarzenegger.”

“Very true,” Allura laughed, “I imagine Rose is much better with picking up ladies than ‘The Shitstain’ as well.”

“No,” Keith choked on air, “that would be pretty awkward if it was.”

“How so?” Allura asked.

“Shiro didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Allura,” Keith laughed, “I’m gay.”

“Oh!” Allura turned tomato red, “I didn’t. Um. No, I don’t think he did.”

“Whatever,” Keith waved it off, “I’m just surprised you didn’t figure it out on your own.”

“I have, like, the worst gaydar. Two of my high school boyfriends were gay,” Allura explained, “hell, I thought I was straight for the first nineteen years of my life. But no, past Allura, you are hella gay.”

“That’s just how it goes, I guess,” Keith shrugged again, “I mean, like, not in my family. I knew I liked guys since Camp Rock. And Shiro’s known since Kindergarten.”

“Yeah, well, heteronormativity was a bitch,” Allura sighed.

“True,” Keith agreed.

“Looks like you guys have already gotten acquainted,” Shiro yawned.

“Yeah, we were just going over the usual small talk, such as the subject of heteronormativity,” Keith smirked.

“What,” Pidge yawned, “what are you nerds talking about?”

“Nothing in particular at the moment,” Allura answered.

“Oh, Allura’s here,” Pidge mumbled, recognizing Allura’s voice, “hi Allura.”

“Hi, Pidge,” Allura tried to ignore the disinterest in Pidge’s voice.

“Katie,” Pidge corrected.

“Sorry, right, Katie,” Allura seemed to be searching for something to compliment, “your hair has gotten really long.”

“Yeah, I know,” Pidge tugged at the ends, which fell barely past her shoulders, “on account of how I have to look at it every day.”

“I know, I was just,” Allura hesitated, “I know you didn’t like when you had to cut it, so I thought maybe you’d appreciate a comment on its length.”

“Whatever,” Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Okay!” Shiro clapped his hands together, “We’ve got a heavy itinerary today, so we probably should get going.”

“The man’s got a point,” Lance agreed, stepping out of the bathroom.

“Wait,” Shiro stopped, “where’s Hunk?”

“I think he went to the pool to swim with other weirdos that get up before nine am by choice,” Lance explained.

“Uh, Lance?” Pidge asked.

“Yeah Pidgeotto?”

“You know it’s before nine am right now, right?” Pidge pointed out.

“I had to get up to use the bathroom,” Lance protested, “so that doesn’t even count.”

“And what the hell is all over your face, while we’re at it?” Pidge demanded.

“Someone’s not a morning person,” Keith interjected.

“Oh, fuck off, would ya?” Pidge crossed her arms.

“This,” Lance directed everyone’s attention back to the main topic, “is a homemade avocado face mask.”

“You look like an alien,” Pidge snorted.

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” Keith pointed out.

“Fair point, fair point,” Pidge nodded.

“She’s far more docile when she’s got caffeine pumping through her system,” Lance whispered from behind Keith and Allura. His voice was tired and ragged and yet so....so pretty? What the hell? How could a voice be pretty? Keith wondered. He didn’t know, but he was sure it involved some form of witchcraft.

“Alright, that’s enough everyone,” Shiro shot a half-hearted glare at his roommates, “we really do have to get going.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Keith rolled his eyes.

“Everyone, go get dressed. I’m going down to the pool to fetch Hunk,” Shiro instructed.

“Fetch?” Pidge smirked, “who are you, Gretchen Weiner?”

“Stuff a cork in it, Pidge,” Shiro turned his attention to Allura, “care to join me?”

“Sure,” Allura smiled, “I do so love the smell of toxic chemicals in the morning.”

“Alright, well, try not to kill each other while we’re gone,” Shiro chuckled.

“No promises,” the whole room said in unison. Shiro rolled his eyes and closed the door. And now, there they were. Alone. Together. All three of them. Certainly not a scenario that any of them would choose. Especially not Keith. You could taste the tension in the air, sour and unsettling.

“So,” Keith cleared his throat, “how about Allura?”

“What about her?” Lance seemed to be avoiding eye contact.

“Well I mean, she stepped on my hand, so she’s making an excellent first impression so far,” Keith joked.

“Well, the first thing you did when I met you was get us kicked out of that coffeehouse,” Pidge pointed out.

“That barista was an ass,” Keith argued.

“Oh, you’re right. Including regular milk in your coffee was a perfectly good reason to punch the guy in the nose,” Lance rolled his eyes.

“In my defense-” Keith started.

“Save it,” Pidge mumbled as she laced up her combat boots, “you’re really in no position to be defending yourself at this point.” Keith had the feeling that they weren’t talking about the coffeehouse anymore.

“Look,” Keith sighed, “I know I fucked up.”

“Excellent observation there, Keith,” Lance interjected.

“I know I fucked up,” Keith continued, “but I’m going to fix this. I am. I’m not gonna just-”

“You know what?” Pidge interrupted, “After you apologize to Shiro, then you can get back to us. Until then, I think it’s best the three of us keep our distance.”

* * *

 

 

Hunk always thought better in the shower. It was just the way he was. Any time he was having some sort of emotional crisis, there was his shower. Of course, there was a shower in the suite, but Lance had gotten to it first. And besides, existential crisis showers were always at least three times as long as regular showers, and he didn’t want to use up all the hot water. So the pool downstairs would do. It had to.

Hunk floated aimlessly on his back, staring at the ceiling. And he waited. And waited. And waited for an answer. It didn’t come. He thanked God he was by himself. As much as he loved Lance, he didn’t think it would help much to have someone who directly correlated to his problem in the same room as him. Lance, as always, would be able to tell that something was wrong. He didn’t want Lance to worry. Lance already was a wreck these past couple of days.

He loved his best friend. He really did. But would he rather be with his friends, his _best_ friend for that matter, or would he rather be with his family? His beautiful, wonderful family. The answer was more complicated than Hunk had first anticipated. Which sucked. This sucked. But he had to come to a conclusion. It wasn’t like he could just commute to Portland from a fucking island. No, he had to make a choice. He had to. He would decide now.

Except now extended past five minutes. Okay, scratch that, ten minutes. And pretty soon his fingers were pruning up because apparently this problem wasn’t quite done ruining his life. Hunk sighed as he stood up in the pool. Well, soaking in chemicals wasn’t going to help anything. Contrary to his prior belief. But he still had to come to a conclusion. By the end of this trip, if he had to. God, he hoped he didn’t have to.

He saw Allura and Shiro’s figures emerge from the thick fog that consumed the room. He had been saved from having to think about this any longer. For now, at least. Which was good enough for him.

 

* * *

 

 

“So,” Pidge clicked her tongue, “are we gonna go see the empire state building?”

“I’m afraid not,” Allura responded.

“What about the statue of Liberty?” Pidge’s shoes slapped against the pavement as they walked.

“Not this time ‘round,” Allura sighed.

“Why not?” Pidge whined.

“We’ve gotta stay within a four street radius of the fest,” Allura explained, “manager’s rules. He doesn’t want me wandering off and having a little too much fun before a big gig.”

“Ah, my mistake,” Pidge grumped.

“Pidge,” Shiro warned.

“I was under the impression that we would get to do some of the stuff that people actually come to New York for,” Pidge huffed.

“Pidge!” Shiro yelled.

“What?” Pidge demanded.

“Would it kill you to be nice to her?”

“Quite possibly.”

“I’m being serious, Katie,” Shiro rubbed the bridge of his nose. Allura looked like she was going to cry.

“Fine, whatever,” Pidge attempted to muster a sincere smile, though there wasn’t a bone of sincerity in her body at the moment, “so, Allura, what actually is on our itinerary for the day?”

“Well,” Allura regained her composure, “Today’s schedule consists of seeing a good old friend of mine.”

“Whatever,” Pidge said again.

“He’s staying a couple of blocks down. You’re gonna love him,” Allura gushed, “He was in my very first garage band, Trash Nebula.”

“Trash Nebula?” Pidge raised an eyebrow.

“That was his idea,” Allura explained.

“I like the guy already,” Keith smirked.

“You _would_ like a band with trash in the name,” Pidge mumbled.

“He is a little,” Allura hesitated, “He’s a little, you know, loud.”

“So?” Lance asked.

“Just, um,” Allura continued, “it’s not that his voice is just loud. His everything is loud. Clothes, hair, apartment, etiquette, everything.”

“I’m sure we’ll like him just fine,” Hunk assured her.

“Oh, I’ll bet you will,” Allura laughed, “it’s just, you know, something to be aware of.”

“Donny’s the greatest!” Shiro agreed.

“You’ve met him?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah, back in my party days-” Shiro started.

“Wait, I’m sorry,” Keith interrupted, “you? Party days?”

“Yes, party days,” Shiro slapped his brother on the back of his head, “believe it or not, but your brother was kind of a party animal for a while there.”

“Or not,” Keith rolled his eyes.

“Leave it to Keith to miss the cringiest and awkward phase that his brother has ever gone through,” Pidge shook her head.

“Remember when he bleached his hair white?” Lance asked no one in particular.

“It’s kind of hard to forget,” Allura laughed, “since he’s still kinda paying for that mistake.”

“I dyed my hair because I thought yours was so cool!” Shiro protested, “How was I supposed to know I would run out of dye half way?”

“I’m sure it wasn’t _that_ bad,” Keith came to the aid of his brother, “we’ve all had our awkward phases.” He smiled at Shiro. The favor was not returned.

“There were leather pants,” Pidge shuddered, “I repeat. Leather. Pants. On your brother. Also known as vom.”

“Okay, first of all, I did not need that mental image,” Keith scrunched up his nose, “second off, yeah, the hair was weird, but my brother? A party animal? Yeah, right.”

“Believe it,” Hunk locked eyes with Keith, “we have photos. Your mom has photos. Photos no human eyes should ever witness.”

“Alright, alright,” Shiro rolled his eyes, “I think that concludes this Shiro roasting seminar.”

“To hell it does!” Allura laughed, “You guys were not there for the worst of it. I could tell stories.”

“Please don’t,” Shiro groaned.

“Please do,” Lance looked ready to take notes.

“He has a tattoo of a cannabis leaf on his stomach,” Allura ignored Shiro.

“Holy shit,” Pidge laughed.

“Have you even ever looked at a drug?” Keith questioned.

“He’s never smoked a day in his life,” Allura answered, “which is what makes the next part even better. It’s not even cannabis. He wanted a tattoo of a cannabis leaf, but the artist made a mistake. It’s actually a leaf of poison ivy.”

“Allura!” Shiro protested.

“And his bellybutton is pierced,” she continued.

“You can’t prove that!” Shiro defended, “You can’t prove any of that!”

“Sure we can,” Hunk assured him.

“Yeah,” Pidge agreed, “Lance, hold him down.”

“There’s no time for this,” Shiro pointed out.

“True,” Allura sighed, “we’re almost there, after all.”

“Check and mate,” Shiro grinned triumphantly.

“Oh, don’t get cocky yet,” Allura warned, “I have some photos of my own.”

“Why must the universe shit upon me?” Shiro asked.

“Because the universe thinks it’s amusing.” Pidge chuckled.

“As do I,” Keith chimed in.

“Duh,” Pidge retorted.

“Seriously though? I think he’s secretly convinced he’s all that and a bag of chips,” Lance sighed.

“All that and a bag of chips?” Pidge groaned.

“Oh, shut up,” Lance rolled his eyes, “I could punt you across the street if I wanted to.”

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t open a pickle jar,” Hunk observed.

“Your mom can’t open a pickle jar,” Pidge retorted.

“That doesn’t even make se-”

“Your mom doesn’t make sense,” Pidge interrupted.

“I can’t even tell if I’m offended by that or not.” Hunk sighed.

* * *

 

“Allura!” the man who answered the door shrieked.

“Donny!” Allura shrieked back. They hugged so tight it looked like Allura was gonna break the poor guy’s ribcage.

“You look fucking great!” Donny grinned.

“As do you, my main man,” Allura laughed.

“Well, are you gonna just stand there, or are ya gonna introduce me to your new pack?” Donny demanded.

“Ah, yes,” Allura turned to face the others, “you’ve already met Shiro, but this is Lance, Pid-er, Katie, Hunk and Shiro’s little bro, Keith.”

“Phenomenal to meet you all!” Donny roared, “Well don’t just stand there, come in!” They all obeyed immediately, mostly out of fear of more shouting.

“Good to see that you still haven’t changed the suite up after all this time,” Allura chuckled.

“Oh, stop. Ya know I’ve only been here for a couple o’ days. This ain’t even the same room!” Donny pointed out.

“I know, I know. I was just joshin’ ya!” Allura gave him a noogie. It was at this point that Keith noticed how tall Allura was.

“Sorry I’m no’ all dressed up for my dear old friend and her pack,” Donny gestured to the floral silk bathrobe he was wearing.

“Don’t be!” Allura elbowed him in the arm, “you don’t have to get all fancied up for ol’ me. Imagine getting dressed up for Marv or Tiffany!”

“Now that’s a hoot!” Donny slapped his knee, “Don’ make me look bad in front of your friends though. I’m trying to make a good impression!” he glanced briefly as he said this.

“Doing a helluva job, too,” Allura teased.

“Shut up!” Donny snorted. He now addressed his new acquaintances, “Wha’ can I get you to drink?”

“Water’s fine, thanks,” Shiro answered for all.

“Ah, live a little man!” Donny encouraged, “Sodas are only six bucks each.”

“We already know you’re living large,” Allura laughed, “you don’t have to remind us.”

“Now, now, who left the band over ‘creative differences’?” Donny asked, ice in his tone.

“Fair point,” Allura forced another chuckle.

“So,” Donny smiled again, “what’ll it be, lads?”

“I actually think we’re good for now,” Shiro repeated.

“Sui’ yourself,” Donny shrugged, grabbing a hard lemonade out of the mini-fridge.

“So, Don,” Allura changed the subject, “how long are you in town for?”

“As of now? Three more days,” Donny answered.

“Nice,” Allura grinned.

“Plenty of time to see what all the hype’s about your new band!” Donny continued.

“You are going to love the sound,” Shiro chimed in.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s all Shiro can talk about,” Pidge chirped, “he won’t shut up about it. Of course, that’s when he’s not talking about how amazing and perfect his new 'pack' is,"

“Katie!” Shiro gritted his teeth.

“I get it. My last gang was a real pack of wild animals, too,” Donny interjected, “o’ course, they did steal my van and five hundred dollars, but eyy. You woulda thought it’d been worth it.”

“That’s what he wrote ‘Vantrum’ about,” Allura explained.

“That song was a banger!” Donny announced, “Remember the words, Ally?”

“I gave her my heart but she threw it away,” Allura started.

“She didn’t have too much to say,” Donny continued.

“She took my heart and she took my keys she threw a VANTRUM!” They shrieked the lyrics.

“How could I ever forget that masterpiece?” Allura howled with laughter, “I have it as my ringtone for corn’s sake!”

“Seems like kind of bad juju to use a song from your failed band as-” Pidge started, but shut herself up when she saw the look Shiro shot her.

“That’s wha’ I said!” Donny laughed, “so, what’s on the menu for today?”

“Not much. We have to stay close to the festivities,” Allura confessed, “manager’s rules.”

“Man!” Donny groaned, “And here I was, thinking your manager was a cool guy.”

“He is,” Allura bit her lip, “He just gets like, paranoid I guess?”

“That’s Coran for you,” Donny chuckled.

“Yeah,” Allura sighed, “remember when he handcuffed you to a bed post so you wouldn’t wander off before a gig?”

“How could I forget?” Donny reminisced, “It led to an interesting interaction with the maid.”

“Vom!” Pidge groaned.

“No’ like that!” Donny said in a panicked tone.

“Sure,” Shiro chimed in. Donny turned slightly red.

“The maid was none the wiser of his condition by the time she entered the room,” Allura explained, “Donny being Donny was like ‘when in Rome’ and the maid was so insulted, she poured an entire bottle of wine on him.”

“Wine that he ordered. To his room. While he was handcuffed to a bed. Classic Donny,” Shiro sighed.

“Ya haven’ even known me for a full year and ye' here you are, lecturing me on my life choices,” Donny protested.

“What a waste of wine!” Hunk laughed.

“Man, that’s not even close to the best story we have of Don here,” Allura squeezed Donny’s shoulders. They spoke nostalgically, but a kind of bitter type of nostalgia. The kind where you can tell that the breakup was messy.You could tell that they had glued their friendship back together without picking up all of the pieces. People were hurt, things were said, maybe even thrown. And despite herself, Pidge felt a little sad for them. It was really scary how their band just fell apart. How even though they were all still friends, things were never the same. Really scary.

* * *

 

In this horrific mess of a hotel suite, Donny still somehow managed to find their old demo CD’s. He claimed he kept copies close, just for luck. What resulted was a full out jam session involving air guitars, photo-ops, and a whole lot of cringe. What was it about road trips that made this type of thing acceptable, wherein other times you would be shunned from society?

Hunk laughed as he took an excellent photo of Pidge. In which she wore a feather boa, cat eye sunglasses, and a goofy ass grin. She was air guitaring it up as Trash Nebula’s would-be biggest hit, Faux Faux Photograph blared through the speakers.

 _“Something organic, something unique, something special, something that makes it so hard to speak. She smiles real big and I laugh, I laugh, a moment too perfect for a faux faux photograph,”_ The words were cheesy, but somehow perfectly fitting for this day. Still, that didn’t mean that Hunk wasn’t going to try his damndest to capture it anyway. Pidge, of course, couldn’t see through the cat eye sunglasses, causing her to trip over the coffee table more times than she would like to admit.

Donny and Shiro were dancing slowly to this inappropriately fast paced cheese ball of a song. As much as everyone hated to admit it, the two of them were actually kind of cute together. And they really, really hated to admit it. But it wasn't hard to see that the two of them were pretty far gone for one another. They were smiling. See? This. This was what their parents had. It was so pure and unattainable and man, Keith had to get the hell out of there. This was exactly the type of moment Keith dreaded. Everything was great, then all of a sudden it was like he was on the outside looking in.

* * *

 

Keith rested his head on the rail. The view from this hotel was amazing. They didn’t call it the city of lights for no reason. If you stared at them long enough, the lights would fuzz together into a big, beautiful blur. He was so lost in it, he didn’t even realize Donny coming out onto the terrace.

“You smoke?” Donny shook a pack Keith’s way, interrupting whatever Keith had been thinking about.

“Uh, no,” Keith shook his head politely.

“Good. Nasty habit. Don’t start it,” Donny lectured as he reached for his own lighter, “so, wha’ brings you to the terrace?”

“How do you mean?” Keith coughed.

“I mean, you seemed to be in an awful hurry to get out here earlier,” Donny explained, taking a long drag.

“Just needed fresh air I guess,” Keith mumbled.

“You came to the wrong city then, didn’tcha?” Donny laughed.

“Good point,” Keith agreed.

“I know it’s none of my business really,” Donny placed a hand on Keith’s shoulder, “but ya really seem like something’s eating ya?”

“I agree. It is none of your business,” Keith flinched away from Donny’s grip.

“Fine, then. I never said you had to tell me,” Donny defended and pulled his hand away. The two of them stood in silence for a couple of minutes, just listening to the buzz of traffic.

“So,” Keith sighed, “what are you in town for?”

“Couldn’t no' see Ally in her new band before I left for tour,” Donny explained.

“Tour?” Keith asked.

“Ah, yes. We’re touring the states for the next year or so. Forget exactly how much time it’s gonna be. I’d have to ask my manager. But then we’re off to England for goodness knows how long,” Donny furrowed his brow.

“You, um,” Keith hesitated, “you don’t get the chance to see Allura that often, do you?”

“No’ nearly as much as I would like to. And no’ as long as I would like when we do. I can’t even stay for the full festival.”

“Oh.”

“Part of me just wants to ask her to join the band again. That would be a ride, wouldn’t it? Going on tour, seeing all the best sites in America, trying all the best foods.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“It is,” Donny sighed. He snapped out of the daze and shook his head, “but, you know, Allura and I disagree on a lo’ of things. The band broke up for really good reasons.”

“Still sucks though,” Keith was really shitty at this whole comforting thing.

“It does suck,” Donny agreed, “people suck.”

“Well, yeah,” Keith rationed, “of course people suck. They’re people. You suck, I suck, hell, I’m sure sometimes Josh Ramsay sucks. We suck because that’s just human nature. You take it with a grain of salt. But you shouldn’t let that ever hold you back. You’ve gotta just stop being afraid for a minute, take the leap.”

“Wow,” Donny smiled, “those would make excellent song lyrics! Where’s my pen, I gotta write that down.”

“Glad you’re taking what I’m saying so seriously,” Keith rolled his eyes.

“You’re righ’, you’re righ’,” Donny apologized. He went silent for a moment before speaking again, “but I can’t ask Ally to leave New York behind. She loves it ‘ere. I could never tear ‘er away from that, no matter how much I miss ‘er.”

“Suit yourself,” Keith sighed, though he admired Donny’s selflessness, “I’d probably rather be on a tour than stuck in the same place all the time if I were a musician.”

“Cheers to that,” Donny laughed. He started to walk back towards the door when he stopped, “you know wha’? You should.”

“I should what?” Keith blinked.

“Come with us. On tour, I mean.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Donny shrugged, “You seem like you’re looking for a change in scenery, for one thing. For another, you seem like you would be a lo’ of fun on a tour. If nothing else, good lyrical inspiration. And I would do anything for a friend of Ally’s.”

“We’re not really-”

“You know wha’ I mean,” Donny opened the door back into the suite, “You don’t hafta give me an answer tonight, just think about it. I don’t often believe in coincidence, especially no’ coincidences like you, Keith.”

So who fucking knows what that meant.

* * *

 

“So, what do you think?” Shiro forced a smile as he looked at his friends for feedback.

“You want us to stay in New York an extra day,” Hunk repeated.

“I think it’s an excellent idea,” Allura grinned as she grabbed Shiro’s hand.

“Of course you fucking do,” Pidge hissed, “it was probably your idea.”

“Whoa, Pidge, what’s your problem?” Keith asked.

“We go to that fair every year,” Pidge explained, “every single year. We have to go. You promised we’d be back to Oregon in time.”

“Pidge, it’s not like I don’t want to go to the fair; of course I do,” Shiro assured her, “it’s just that-”

“It’s just that you would rather have jam sessions with your better friends than actually hold up one of our most important traditions. I promise, I get it.” Pidge huffed.

“Pidge-” Allura started to comfort her.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Pidge clenched her fists.

“Katie,” Allura started again, “it’s just an extra day.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Pidge slumped in her chair, “just a day. One day.”

“Pidge-” Shiro gripped her wrist.

“It’s whatever. I’ll get over it, right? It’s just a ridiculous tradition,” Pidge shrugged and pulled out of his grip.

“I feel like you care more about this than you’re letting on,” Lance’s tone was a mix of concern and irritance.

“Who cares?” Pidge’s voice cracked..

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a little bit?” Allura asked.

“Like you actually fucking care,” Pidge mumbled.

“Okay, that is it!” Allura yelled, “I have been nothing but absolutely nice to you!”

“What-fucking-ever,” Pidge rolled her eyes, “you may think you’re being nice, but this is just another tradition down the drain. Because of you. Pretty soon we’ll be out of traditions and then what?”

“You know what? Stop treating me and Shiro like absolute shit!” Allura demanded, “I am absolutely done. It’s okay for someone to put as much effort into new friendships as they do old ones!”

“In this case more,” Pidge mumbled.

“What do you fucking know? You’re just a kid! Why don’t you just let the adults talk?” It was mean. It was horrible. It was false. It was… too late to take it back.

“I knew it,” Pidge laughed bitterly.

“Katie, I-” Allura started.

“I don’t want to hear it. Fuck. You,” Pidge hissed.

“Pidge,” Shiro crossed his arms.

“This is like, so how it’s supposed to be, right?” Tears brewed in Pidge’s eyes, “You dump us, you meet new friends, who are  so much better than your old friends that you can’t go five goddamn seconds without reminding them of that little factoid, then you graduate. You become some super important lawyer, you get married, and then you forget about us. Who needs friends when your life is so _fucking_ perfect?”

“Katie!” Shiro interjected.

“Enjoy the rest of your vacation. I’m tired of this.” She _was_ tired of this. Of trying to measure up to Shiro’s ridiculous standards, of playing nice to his perfect fucking clique, of canceling traditions to make room for _them_. Pidge was exhausted. All she wanted to do was forget this trip ever happened. And that’s exactly what she was gonna do, even if it widened the rift so far it couldn’t be bridged.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooooo boy  
> some high octane angst right here  
> (I am so so sorry about this)  
> ANYWHO  
> The song for this chapter in case you didn't already feel like crying (The Freshmen by The Verve Pipe)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1umEXpGHc0E  
> How I picture Trash Nebula's music to sound like (i'm semi joking)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=husIwFEaFqc  
> My Tumblr in case you wanna come scream at me  
> moonsofmercury.tumblr.com  
> Again so sorry pls don't kill me


	8. The Ballad of Hearts Grown Cold

_Hush, hush, the world is quiet_

_Hush, hush we both can't fight it_

_It's us that made this mess_

_Why can't you understand_

 

They all split off into groups to find Pidge. Shiro hated to admit it, but he was praying that Allura didn’t find her first. He tried not to panic. He couldn’t panic. Pidge….she could handle herself. She did carry around a knife in her boots at all times “just in case”. She did know two forms of martial arts. But she was still, she was still a sixteen year old girl. And she was alone. In New York City. And it was getting dark. Oh, God, please let them find her before dark, dear Lord Matt would murder him if anything happened to her. In daylight, Pidge was kind of hard not to see. But in New York City, well….

Luckily for them, she had taken the ferret with her, and there were only a limited number of ferret friendly diners nearby. Keith was scoping out one of these restaurants, and he spotted her wild mane of hair. Keith was so relieved to see her, he completely forgot how furious she was with everyone. That is, until she shot a major glare at him. He sighed and walked towards his maybe friend.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now,” Keith forced a half smile, “but can I sit?”

“Would it really matter to you if I said no?” Pidge asked. She rolled her eyes and gestured to the seat across from her. Keith sat. It was quiet.

“I know I’m not,” Keith hesitated, “I’m not very good at this whole comforting thing. But if you need someone to just listen to you, I’m here.” She’d been crying. Keith could tell. Her eyes were puffy and a little red.

“I’m okay right now,” Pidge answered. She stroked Apollo, who had been giving Keith the death glare.

“You want me to order you a drink, then?” Keith pulled out his wallet.

“Actually, yeah,” Pidge smiled, “a soda sounds pretty good right about now.”

“Thought so,” Keith smiled back.

When the drinks came, they sat in silence once more. Keith had sent a text to the others that he had found her, but at Pidge’s request, he hadn’t told them exactly where they were. Not yet. This was good. This was progress. She wasn’t storming off, at least.

“Remember that offer you made?” Pidge asked, breaking the long silence, “About if I needed to talk?”

“Yeah,” Keith looked off to the side.

“Well,” Pidge sighed, “if that’s still up for grabs, I think I might take that offer.”

“Of course,” Keith said it as quietly as he could. He didn’t want to scare her off. It was similar to approaching a deer, he had to be cautious and sensitive. And Keith… usually wasn’t either of those things.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not even mad at Allura. Not as much as I thought I would be, at the very least. I guess I was just, I don’t know, looking for some reason to storm off, you know?” Pidge stared down at the table.

“But why?” Keith asked, “I mean, if you want to tell me.”

“I don’t know. I just had to get the hell out of this. Everything’s falling apart. I wanted to be able to jump ship before I got dragged down. So,” she sighed, “I guess I was just looking for a fight to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. I guess it’s easier to do that then actually deal with your problems.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed.

“Just my luck that it would happen in New York city, when I have absolutely no way to get home. I don’t have my car, I don’t have my passport, and hell, I don’t even have my money,” Pidge stirred her straw.

“If it’s okay for me to ask,” Keith leaned forward, “why, exactly, would you want to leave?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” Pidge slumped in her chair.

“I’ve got time,” Keith pointed out.

“Okay,” Pidge took a deep breath, “I know. I know we were never perfect. I know that. But when it was just the three of us, just two friends and a younger sister who always tagged along. It was so weird looking back but it just….it just _worked,_ you know? And I know you didn’t hang out with me much, but when you did, it was so, I dunno, just so perfect. And then you started school and we met Lance and Hunk and it was like they were the two missing pieces we never knew we needed. I just wish….I just wish it had stayed like that.”

“Me too,” Keith confessed.

“And,” Pidge bit her lip, “I know I really have no place to be talking about it because I wasn’t there or related or, or anything, but after the….you know. It was just like it was opening Pandora’s box.”

“You sound like Hunk,” Keith observed.

“You can’t hear that much about Greek Mythology without absorbing it,” Pidge pointed out, “besides, who doesn’t know Pandora?”

“Point taken,” Keith shut up now.

“And I know that it wasn’t even really your fault, and I know you didn’t even get to hang out with us that much to begin with, but when you stopped hanging out with us, it hurt. It really hurt. It sucks when someone you used to count on being there just suddenly isn’t.”

“I know the feeling,” Keith sighed.

“And then Shiro got a lot quieter when we hung out, and he started hanging out with Allura,” Pidge continued, “Which was like, the final nail in the coffin. Allura’s nice or whatever. But, everything was just so much easier the way things were. Shiro wasn’t stressed out twenty four seven, we weren’t cancelling plans to make room for band gigs, I can sure as hell tell you that Matt was a lot happier too. And it just. I know people deal with grief in different ways. I do. I just wish that...Ugh. I don’t know.”

“I know what you mean,” Keith put a hand on her shoulder.

“Really? Cause I’m kind of being an incoherent mess at the moment,” Pidge laughed. A real laugh.

“Shiro’s been so stressed out. And it seems like he’s just constantly freaking out about something. But you have to try to remember that Shiro’s just human, and he’s just kind of blind to everyone else’s feelings,” Keith reasoned, “that doesn’t make his behavior not dick-ish. But talking to him can go a long way.”

“Oh, yeah,” Pidge scoffed, “because you’re one to talk.”

“Cheap shot,” Keith laughed, “but touche.”

“Ridiculous question,” Pidge furrowed her brow, “but like, do you think we’ll be able to stay a group?”

“You are right, that _is_ a ridiculous question,” Keith assured her, “of course. Why wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t know. People graduate and become real adults. People move back home to be with their families. Things happen.”

“You know what I think?”

“What?” Pidge groaned.

“I think that you could use some cheesy advice.”

“Maybe just a little.”

“My dad used to always say that love, real love, is damn near impossible to kill. And we do love you, Pidge. You’re like a little sister to us. And if love is strong enough, it can cross any distance, whether physical distance or emotional.”

“You really think so?” Pidge asked.

“Words to live by. My parents were in a long distance relationship for eight years. And if they, with not even half the technology we do in regards to talking to far away people, can make it work and come out of the other side twice as strong? Then we’ll make it through this, no matter how far away we are from each other.”

Keith smiled. Pidge smiled right back. And all of a sudden she was hugging him, like he was gonna disappear if she let go, and everything was okay again.

 

* * *

 

 

Less than an hour later, the gang found themselves back at Donny’s hotel room. A frenzy of hugs and “we were so worried about you's buzzed throughout the suite. Even from Donny, bless Pidge’s little heart, she almost gave him an anxiety attack.

Nevertheless, they did have an evening to get on with. A buzz continued to follow them, though it was more a “frantically trying to flag down a cab to get back to the hotel to change so they could make it to the first night of the concert” kinda buzz. Pidge’s whole shenanigan caused quite the delay in their evening plans. And Allura was the most frantic of them all. She radiated a beacon of stress. Needless to say, it was one of the most anxiety induced cab rides the team had ever been on.

What was the most stressful cab ride they’d ever been on? Why, it’s quite the story. You see, about six months ago-

“WE’RE HERE!” Allura shrieked, tearing at her seatbelt. And suddenly they were back in the present.

“Sheesh, Allura, where’s the fire?” Lance asked, poking away a wayward elbow.

“It’s about to be in Coran’s eyes,” Allura answered, flinging herself from the taxi.

“Ok, this I gotta see,” Hunk shook his head as he climbed out of the car.

“I’ve got a mini bar to get to,” Lance quickly followed.

“Lance, how are you even going to get alcohol?” Pidge wondered, jogging to keep up with her friend.

“I have my means,” Lance said with the utmost vagueness, as he shut the right side door behind Pidge.

Which was how Shiro and Keith ended up sitting alone in a taxi cab with the meter running. The cab driver announced the price and waited semi patiently as the brothers decided who was to pay.

“I’ll take care of it,” Keith offered, reaching for his wallet.

“No, no,” Shiro sighed, “allow me.”

“I don’t mind, really,” Keith insisted.

“But I do,” Shiro’s expression shifted to the ever popular mature-older-brother expression. Whenever it graced his face, it usually meant Keith was going to lose whatever dispute they were having. It was a look Keith dreaded to see, but at least it wasn’t the look he had gotten from his brother just days before. Keith lowered his wallet in surrender, and went to join the others.

* * *

 

The park they were in was ginormous, and it didn’t take long for Keith to lose all of his friends. There were at least nine stages set up, all of which the size of a stage at a college theatre. There were people talking, dancing, and cheering. People were very clearly drunk, most of them sporting glowsticks as jewelry. Some people had even painted themselves neon.

Thing was, high school Keith would have absolutely hated this sort of scene. He went to very few parties in his teen years. They were too, what’s the word? Ah, cluttered. They were cluttered. With people, with the smell of cheap beer, with shady guys in trenchcoats in the corner, giving off “you should not trust me” vibes that rivaled J. D. from Heathers. Movie version, mind you. No musicals in Keith’s house, son.

But once he got to college, parties were actually a thing to look forward to. Keith was a mysterious badass to the outsiders looking in, decked out in (not real, mind you) leather and wearing CSI sunglasses. He liked giving off that vibe. It left less opportunity to embarrass himself. If he didn’t talk, he didn’t infodump. And lately, Keith didn’t hate the loud music nearly as much. Maybe sometimes it was better to not be able to hear your own thoughts over deafening beats. Especially when those thoughts went to such dark places.

Maybe it was time to get drunk off his ass.

* * *

 

See, you would think it would be hard to find one man in a sea of possibly a thousand people. But when the person you are looking for is a middle-aged Nigel Thorneberry lookalike in a crowd of mostly people in their early twenties and late teens, it was kind of a cake-walk.

“Allura!” Coran shouted excitedly as he approached her. He glanced at the rest of the crew, and added, “And company.”

“Coran, you’ve met Shiro and Donny, but these are my. Er, his friends, Lance, Hunk and Katie.” Allura introduced, “everyone, this is my manager, Coran.”

“Pleasure to make all of your acquaintances,” Coran winked. He turned his attention back to his clipboard, “now, as much as I would like to stand around and indulge in good old fashioned idle chitchat, you do have a set to get ready for, and not much time to do it in.”

“How much, exactly, is not much time?” Allura asked.

“About, I’d say,” he paused to glance at his watch, “fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Allura demanded.

“Yes, Allura, fifteen minutes. And in that time you have to get washed up, clothed, have hair and makeup done in, and make it back to the stage. A feat, if I may add, that your bandmates accomplished over an hour ago,” Coran lectured.

“Sorry,” Allura folded her hands, “there was sort of an emergency that needed to be dealt with.”

“An emergency?” Coran looked like he was going to combust.

“Minor emergency,” Allura clarified, “and it’s all taken care of now, so there’s no need to-”

“Fret?” Shiro finished for her. A chorus of groans erupted from the group.

“Pun or no pun, we need to get you to the trailer pronto,” Donny interjected.

“Agreed,” Coran nodded, ushering her along.

“Wait,” Pidge mumbled.

“What?” Allura quirked an eyebrow,

“Um,” Pidge bit her lip.

“Fourteen minutes!” Coran screeched.

“Pidge, whatever it is, spit it out!” Lance chimed in, “I’ve got one singular girl to find in this clusterfuck-”

“Language,” Hunk scolded, gesturing towards Shiro, “there are children present.”

“How many times are you going to make that joke?” Shiro groaned.

“As many times as it’s funny,” Hunk answered.

“In this cluster junk of a festival,” Lance continued.

“Alright, alright,” Pidge sighed, “I was wondering, I’ve never seen a real dressing room before, and I was just, I don’t know…”

“You may come if you wish,” Allura smiled, hoping this was a sign that Pidge was coming around.

“Yes, okay, but you must hurry,” Coran pointed out.

“Well, as much as I’d love to tag along and see what kind of awesome Jem and the Holograms type shit you’ve got going on, I’m a man on a mission.” Lance squiggled his eyebrows and sauntered off, humming the mission impossible theme.

“And I have to go make sure he doesn’t do anything he’ll regret tomorrow,” Shiro laughed, following in Lance’s path.

“And I, as Lance’s best friend, have to be there when he does do something of that nature,” Hunk announced.

“I smell blackmail afoot,” Pidge grinned.

“Not blackmail, just, you know, stories that will make great additions to my best man toast,” Hunk corrected.

“Aaaaaand now I smell bullshit,” Pidge snorted.

“And I smell the snack bar,” Donny piped up, “beckoning me with her sweet call.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Allura rolled her eyes.

“Those mini sandwiches are no fucking joke, Ally,” Donny defended.

“Just make sure you’re all back in time for the show,” Allura instructed.

“There won’t even be a show to get back to if you don’t hustle your bustle,” Coran tapped at his watch.

“Alright,” Allura agreed, “time to stop lollygagging. It’s showtime.”

* * *

 

“Are you, are you okay there mate?” Donny took one look at this mulleted teenager and decided he probably knew the answer, but that was beside the point. Was Keith okay by Keith’s definition? Probably not.

“I’m fine,” Keith answered, bobbing his head to the music, “just having a hard time getting my hands on some, um, nourishments.”

“Oh my god I feel old,” Donny groaned, “I can get you some refreshments. Will a hard lemonade do?”

“More like, uh, vodka?” Keith knew it was a long shot, but.

“Good god, what is your agenda?” Donny laughed.

“Uh, to get as drunk as I possibly can in twenty minutes?” Keith folded his arms.

“Let’s start you off with a beer or two,” Donny chuckled, “though I do appreciate the enthusiasm.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Keith demanded.

“Nothing,” Donny waved it off, “one beer coming right up.”

So maybe it was more than one beer. Maybe it was like, three. Maybe Keith didn’t drink all that often and was feeling a little more than buzzed at this point. But he was fine, he swore. He wasn’t slurring his words or stumbling over anything. It was fine. He felt Donny tugging him along to head to the stage area.

What could possibly go wrong?

* * *

 

“So,” Allura sighed, snapping Pidge out of her daze, “what do you think?”

“Sorry,” Pidge shook her head, “what were the options again?”

“Pacific sunset or Wave Crush?” Allura repeated, “I feel like Pacific Sunset goes better with the outfit, but Wave Crush goes with my hair a bit better.”

“Uh,” Pidge paused, “I think Pacific Sunset opens up your eyes? Maybe? I don’t know, I’m not very good at this sort of thing.”

“That’s alright,” Allura laughed, “but Pacific Sunrise it is then.”

“You’re outfit is really cool,” Pidge added.

“Th-thank you,” Allura was taken aback by the compliment. Pidge was, after all, the most apathetic teenager Allura had ever met. Besides, you know, Keith.

“No problem,” Pidge twiddled with her thumbs.

“Is there, uh, something on your mind?” Allura asked, smearing what appeared to be glitter on her face.

“Uh,” Pidge stopped herself, “just, lost in thought I guess.”

“Understandable,” Allura nodded.

“I also wanted to say,” Pidge choked out the words.

“Yes?” Allura quirked an eyebrow.

“Nevermind,” Pidge shrank back.

“Alright,” Allura knew there was something she was trying to say, but she didn’t want to force anything out of the girl.

“Allura?”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say that, you know, I’m sorry,” she managed to blurt out.

“Sorry?” Allura tightened her grip on her eyebrow pencil.

“Yeah,” Pidge nodded, “I’m sorry for treating you the way I’ve been treating you. I know you and your friends make him really...happy. And if he's happy, I'll try as hard as I can to be happy too."

“I...I really appreciate that, Katie.”

“And if we had met under literally any other circumstances, I’d of thought you were just about the coolest person alive.”

“Really?” Dammit, Allura, you just put on eye makeup. You can’t cry now.

“Totally. The way you dress, the way you act, your hair. You are actually pretty badass.”

“You’re just asskissing now,” Allura grinned.

“No,” Pidge argued, “I really mean it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be giving you this much ammo.”

“Good point,” Allura laughed, “you’re pretty cool yourself.”

“Yeah, but I already knew that.”  
“Katie.”

“Pidge.”

“What?” Allura looked confused.

“Friends call me Pidge.” She gave Allura a kind smile and nearly made the rockstar melt.

“Well then Pidge,” Allura’s smile grew a little wider. “Maybe one of these days, you and I can have a girl’s day out. Us gals really have to stick together, you know?”

“I’d like that,” Pidge was smiling. Why couldn’t it have been this great all along?

“Now then,” Allura directed their attention back to the vanity “onto lipsticks.”

* * *

 

There was only one way to describe the way Allura’s band sounded. Badass. It was B to the A to the D ASS. No offense to Donny and the rest of the Trash Nebulas, but the music they heard in Donny’s suite was nothing compared to this.

In all of Shiro’s long tangents to Keith about how awesome beyond belief this band was, he had left out how amazing Allura was on the guitar. Okay, maybe he didn’t, but not even the word “awesome” was good enough to describe what was heard upon that stage. Man.  Allura wailed on that guitar like her life depended on it, playing it as if it was an extension of herself. Her fingers moved along the frets at absolute lightning speed. Any of the rest of them would probably break a finger trying to play like that.

Not that the other members weren’t also, indeed, the bomb. They were. They so were. The drummer clashed her drumsticks on her instrument in a way that made glorified violence against instruments sound like a ballad of it’s own.And the singer. Oh man, the singer. Loud, angry, and unapologetic.

The songs themselves gave off this wicked aesthetic. A total “Gittahellouttamuhway” sort of vibe. The kind of songs that say “Not exactly sure what I want, but I know exactly how to get it once I figure it out.” Pidge wanted to look exactly like these songs sounded. Once she actually had enough money to develop a “style”, this would be it.

Once the songs concluded, Allura and her band mates took a bow. Exit stage left. Pidge was the first to greet the band members.

“That was totally fricken awesome!” Pidge gushed, “I mean, the way you played, it was just, wow. Shiro told me you were good but I had no Idea you were _this_ good.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Allura laughed.

“You should,” Donny punched her shoulder, “can’t believe you tried to pull a fast one on ol’ Donny boy. Holding back during the Trash Nebula days? Hiding that much talent should be illegal.”

“Well, thanks,” Allura laughed. She looked towards her band mates, “where are my manners? You’ve met some of the lads, but this is Shiro’s kid brother, Keith, and my dearest old pal Donovan Grace.”

“That’s Donny for friends,” Donny chucked, running his fingers through his ‘hawke.

“Donny and Keith, this is my pack. On lead vocals, you’ve got Plax, and on drums, Shay.”

“I’m happy to meet you two,” Shay grinned.

“Yeah, any friends of Ally’s are friends of ours,” Plax agreed.

“It’s very nice to see you again, Hunk,” Shay brushed a lock of hair out of her face.

“Likewise,” Hunk smiled.

“Not that it isn’t good to see the rest of you,” Shay clarified.

“We get it. Hunk is a very likeable guy. Especially when he goes really well with another person,” Lance winked. It was at this point that both Shay and Hunk turned bright red, “maybe the rest of us should scatter, make room for some quality time?”

Remind Hunk to kill Lance when they get back to Portland.

“Sorry, but I have a cinderella to find,” Lance finger-gunned at the group.

“Is this a creative way for you to tell us you have a foot fetish?” Pidge smirked.

“Shut your fuck!” Lance sputtered.

“Actually,” Allura interrupted, “I was hoping that the band and I could show Pidge around?”

“Really?” Pidge beamed.

“Heck yeah!” Plax nodded, “anything for an aspiring rock star such as yourself.”

“I suppose there will be more time for me and Hunk to hang out later on in the trip,” Shay reasoned.

“Unless you’re not alright with this?” Allura squeezed Shiro’s shoulder. Well, as much as you can squeeze plastic, which isn’t very much.

“I think some girl time is definitely in order,” Shiro agreed.

“I guess I can just hang out with Lance for the night, anyway,” Hunk shrugged. His eyes widened as he looked frantically around, “Lance? Lance? Oh no, he’s on the loose.”

* * *

 

While the girls hung out and Hunk desperately searched for his best pal, Shiro and Keith found themselves hovering semi-near each other. They weren’t talking, nor acknowledging each other’s existence. They were as silent as they possibly could be at a ginormous event, and you could cut the tension in the air with the blade of Marmora.

Shiro seemed to be avoiding talking to Keith at all, for understandable reasons, and Keith? Well, he just wasn’t exactly sure what to say. How do you apologize for something like that? The answer is, you don’t. You bury it deep in the darkest pits of your soul and you refuse to acknowledge it at all. At least, in Keith’s mind that was what you were supposed to do. So why, in God’s name, was he approaching Shiro with a pair of soft pretzels and a “please don’t hate me” look on his face? Because Keith had the impulse control of, well, a drunk teenager.

“Look, can we talk?” Keith asked.

“I don’t see exactly what needs to be talked about,” Shiro clenched his jaw.

“I just,” Keith hesitated.

“You know what, Keith? I don’t want to hear it,” Shiro interrupted.

“I, uh, I got you a soft pretzel, if you want it,” Keith said lamely.

“You can’t buy forgiveness, Keith.”

“I can sure as hell try,” Keith joked.

“ _Keith_.”

“Sorry, not funny,” Keith looked down, “you can still have the pretzel, if you want it.”

“You keep saying ‘if I want it,’” Shiro observed.

“Whatever,” Keith mumbled.

“Give me the pretzel,” Shiro sighed.

“Uh, yessir,” Keith did as he was told.

“Now,” Shiro took a bite out of the snack, “you have two minutes. Then I’ve got to get to a set.”

“Okay,” Keith took a moment to gather his thoughts, “can I just say I am extremely sorry for what I said?”

“You can,” Shiro nodded.

“I know what I said was completely unforgivable. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to talk to me ever again. If I were you, I would have dumped myself somewhere in Connecticut.”

“You’re not really making the best case for yourself.”

“I just,” Keith sighed, “I don’t know. I didn’t mean those things I said. I know that doesn’t make any of it any better, but I didn’t. I was in the heat of the moment, and I said something reckless.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I’ve thought about how it never would have happened if it wasn’t for me? How many times I’ve cried myself to sleep knowing I could have taken that bullet, and Dad would still be here? Because honestly, that’s all I ever really think about,” tears were welling in Shiro’s eyes.

“Shiro, I-”

“Now, I want you to picture feeling that way, thinking that way constantly, and then having someone confirm that it is your fault. Because it is the most shitty goddamned thing. Like, ever.”

“I’m sorry,” Keith felt tears falling down his face, “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I was so shitty to you. I’m so sorry. I know that feeling. If I had just gone to the store myself, we would all still be alive. And together. I of all people should know when to shut my goddamned mouth when it counts in these types of situations.”

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro furrowed his brow.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Keith.”

“I never should have-”

“Keith!”

“What?”

“Do you remember that grieving seminar mom tried to drag you to?”

“How could I forget?”

“Well, the speaker,” Shiro bit his lip, “the speaker said something about how when someone dies, everyone takes a little bit of the blame. Everyone thinks it’s their fault. And, yeah, that’s really shitty, but you have to remember that none of us are completely right. And it’s not fair to Dad to spend the rest of our lives feeling guilty about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“God,” Keith clunkily wiped away some tears, “how did I go in to comfort you, and you still wound up comforting me? I must be shittier at this whole comforting thing than I thought.”

“Eh, you’re not so bad,” Shiro ruffled his brother’s hair, “I think I hate myself less than at the start of this conversation.”

“Glad to hear it,” Keith laughed.

“Keith?”  
“Yeah?”

“You act so much like him. I know everyone loves to compare me and him, but you do. You share a lot of similarities.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You got his impulsivity,” Shiro smiled.

“True,” Keith agreed.

“And his recklessness.”

“Fair.”

“And his strange obsession with bad movies.”

“Hey now-”

“And his-”

“Okay,” Keith held up his hands, “I get it.”

“You got a lot of his good qualities too,” Shiro assured.

“I don’t assume you’ll be listing _those_ off, though.”

“It would be far less fun for me if I did,” Shiro teased.

“Shiro?”

“Yes?” Shiro raised an eyebrow.

“Have I ever told you you’re my favorite brother?”

“I’m your _only_ brother.”

“Oh, whatever. If I had the entire original cast of All That as siblings, you’d still be my favorite.”

“How drunk _are_ you right now?”

“Very,” Keith admitted, “But I mean it. You rock.”

“Thanks. A lot. And ditto.”

“But you can’t tell anyone I said this.”

“Of course not. That would involve me admitting that I was being affectionate with my little brother. And that would be ridiculous.”

“Absurd!” Keith agreed.

“Inconceivable!”

“Unheard of!”

“An abomination!”

“Ludicrous!”

“Preposterous!”

“Incomprehensible!”

“Damn,” Shiro laughed, “have you been using your word-of-the-day toilet paper?”

“Just because it was a gag gift, doesn’t mean I can’t get use out of it,” Keith grinned.

* * *

 

It was after about three hours of searching that Lance had spotted her. The same green eyes, the blonde hair, the perfect skin. This was it. Lance’s big moment. He was not going to fuck this up. As far as he knew.

* * *

 

Keith may or may not have been casually stalking Lance. It wasn’t on purpose. Keith and him just so happened to be going in the same direction. For like an hour. Look, it wasn’t as creepy as it sounded. It was perfectly normal to want to see how this sort of interaction between your cru-FRIEND! Your friend and a beautiful girl (that Keith totally wasn’t jealous of, by the way) played out. Which was why Keith was hiding behind a salad plate from the buffet. Normal. Perfectly normal. No ulterior motives were present here, no sir.

* * *

 

“Nyma!” Lance waved excitedly. The girl turned to see him, sporting a completely puzzled look as she did so.

“Uh, hi there?” Nyma quirked an eyebrow.

“Don’t you recognize me?” Lance asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I….uh,” Nyma seemed to be searching for some kind of solution.

“Come on, now. Long Beach, last Spring break?” Lance tried to jog her memory.

“Oh!” The realization seemed to hit her, “Yeah, that’s right! It’s um, it’s Lincoln?”

“Lance,” Lance corrected. His smile faded ever so slightly.

“Lance!” She rubbed her temples, “Of course it’s you! Of course in all the festivals in the country, you wound up being at the same one as me.” She didn’t exactly seem ecstatic, that was for sure.

“I, uh,” Lance took out his phone, “I listened to that mix you gave me.”

“Did you now?” Nyma mumbled.

“Yeah,” Lance’s smile was completely gone now. Nevertheless, “there are some bangers on there.”

“Listen, Lance,” Nyma put a hand on his shoulder, “you seem like a nice kid. I’m not gonna lie to you anymore.”

“Wha-” Lance started.

“Do you remember how I said I was traveling the country in search of great music?” Nyma asked.

“Yeah, but-”

“Well,” she continued, “that’s about the only thing I ever told you that was true. Other than the slurpie theory, but I digress. Here’s the deal. I hitchhike from fest to fest, hunting down poor saps like you to give me a free ride. Food, entertainment, tickets to concerts?”

“But,” Lance protested, “the mix! You said you picked out songs that you thought sounded like me.”

“It’s a hustle, babe. It’s the same mix. I’ve given it to dozens of people,” Nyma explained.

“I... I thought…”

“I know it sucks to be on the receiving end of it. Hell, being hustled like this is how I got into this business myself. Maybe one day, you’ll be doing the same.”

“Nyma!” Someone approached her, “How many times have we been over this. You can’t just ditch one sucker mid-Oh, hi, Lance.”

“Hi, Rolo.”

“-You can’t just leave ‘em high and dry! You gotta lure them in, yeah?” Rolo continued.

“Just one minute,” Nyma said through gritted teeth, “I’m dealing with something.”

“Right,” Rolo clicked his tongue, “sorry. I’ll keep dudebro ocupado while you handle this. Good seeing ya Lance, and for what it’s worth, you were one of my favorites.”

“What was I saying? Oh, yeah. I’m sorry things didn’t work out, but hey, at least you got a great photo to show your fri-”

“Lance?” Keith marched up to them.

“Uh, yeah?” Lance was confused.

“Babe, I’ve been looking all over for you! There’s a set in four minutes we have to get to!” Keith intertwined his fingers with Lance’s. They locked eyes. Something in  Keith’s grey irises glinted. Oh. Oh.

“Sorry, babe, just catching up with an old flame,” Lance planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, hi,” Keith gave Nyma a semi-judgemental glance.

“This is my boyfriend, Keith,” Lance lied. Oh, god, the words sounded so good coming out of his mouth. In all his life, Lance had never uttered a more beautiful sentence.

“Uh,” Nyma stammered, “H-hi. I’m Nyma. Nice to...to meet you.” She was blushing like a boiled lobster.

“Nyma?” Keith echoed. He turned his attention back towards Lance, “Oh, was this the one that made you realize you weren’t into girls, dollface?” It didn’t take an intellectual to get Lance was bisexual, but hey. Improv involves embellishing.

“Y-yeah! As a matter of fact, she is,” Lance grinned.

“In that case, Nyma, thanks,” Keith smiled brightly, “without you, Lance and I might have never gotten together.”

“I, um,” she looked like she was going to throw up, “I have to go.” And thus, she ran off like a headless chicken.

“Oh my god,” Lance laughed, “that was brilliant!”

“Thanks,” Keith grinned, “you weren’t so bad yourself.”

“The fucking look on her face!” Lance roared, “Priceless. Almost worth all that money I spent on her at the LBC.”

“Well, she deserved it,” Keith shrugged.

“Thanks a billion. You really saved my ass back there,” Lance punched him lightly in the arm, “really. I so owe you one.”

“I,” Keith was about to say no thanks were needed, but it just so happened that a song he really, really liked came on. Without thinking, he grabbed Lance’s hand and said, “you owe me a dance. But then we’re even.”

“D-deal,” Now it was Lance’s turn to go completely red.

* * *

 

The song was comfortably fast paced. It had a nice, party style beat. Which meant no slow dancing. Which meant Lance and Keith were both dancing within their current comfort zones, i.e. where they weren’t becoming human tomatoes. They were laughing. Everything was more perfect than either of them could ever imagine. To think that the two of them were constantly fighting the previous year seemed to be beyond the realm of possibility. There weren’t drunk strangers bumping into them, the music wasn’t too loud. No, the only things right here and now were Keith and Lance.

Which was why when the next song started, a much softer and sweeter song at that, neither of the two clueless, hopeless boys wanted it to end. Keith had to make an excuse to go find Shiro, or something. And that’s when Lance grabbed his hand.

“Dude, saving my ass is worth at least two dances,” was all Lance managed to say when Keith gave him a “whatthefuckareyoudoing” look.

“But this song, it’s kinda,” way too lovey dovey for two ‘just friends’?

“Come on, I don’t bite,” Lance assured him, “and besides. Slow dances aren’t even that romantic. it’s not like I’m climbing into bed with you, or something.” Right. Was Lance trying to kill him?

“Uh, I, um, sure,” Keith stammered. His breath hitched. He put his wrists on Lance’s shoulders. Perfectly platonic hand placement. Lance put his hands on Keith’s waist, and suddenly it was a fucking red alert situation up in this bitch.

They swayed softly to the music, both boys trying desperately to convince themselves that they did not like each other. They didn’t, shut up. They were completely platonically looking deeply into each other’s eyes. Dudes being bros, nothing gay going on here. Their foreheads touched gently.

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the consistent flirting since they’d been on this trip. Maybe it was just plain impulse. But apparently Keith decided to throw all common sense out the window, because now he was kissing Lance. His lips were soft and warm and he was just as perfect as Keith had always pictured. And the thing was? Lance was kissing back. They were both kissing. A two-party kiss. It was perfect and amazing and Keith was absolutely floating and-OH DEAR GOD, WHAT WAS HE DOING? Keith pulled away as fast as he could. Lance looked just as horrified as he was. Oh, god, oh god, oh god.

Which was why on this night you would find Keith fucking sprinting away from a scenario he could (and had) only dreamed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Muffled evil laughter*  
> I hope you nerds enjoyed this, this is the fluffiest chapter yer getting for a while  
> This chapter's song (Animal by Neon Trees):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gM7Hlg75Mlo  
> Me Tumblr:  
> moonsofmercury.tumblr.com  
> If ya have any opinions/reviews for me, leave a comment


	9. Shattered

_You thought by now_

_You'd have it figured out_

_You can't erase the way it pulls_

_When seasons change_

(Convo between Shiro and Keith, from Shiro’s phone)

10:48 pm EST, Harley-GAYvidson wrote:

**Shiro.**

**I may have made an irriverce able misteak**

10:49 pm EST, you wrote:

…..

**Did you piss on someone’s car?**

**Who pissed you off?**

11:00 pm EST, you wrote:

**Keith**

**Keith**

**KEITH**

11:45 pm EST, Harley-GAYvidson wrote:

**No, I didm’t piss on anythig!**

**Why would I?**

11:50 pm EST, you wrote:

**a.) you’re drunk**

**b.) you’ve done it before**

**c.) the reasoning is beyond me**

11:55 pm EST, Harley-GAYvidson wrote:

**Once**

**I did that ONCE**

11:55 pm EST, you wrote:

**Twice.**

**And you lied to me about it before, so, if I find out that you did piss on something, so help me**

12:00 am EST, Harley-GAYvidson wrote:

**Ugh. Forget it.**

**I’ll ask Pidge for help.**

12:01 am EST, you wrote:

**Come on.**

**Baby bro**

**Brosepherino**

**Teddy Brosevelt?**

12:30 am EST, you wrote:

**You know you love meee**

√ Read at 12: 30 am

* * *

 

 

(Pidge and Keith, from Pidge’s phone)

12:05 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote

**K I need ur help but u gotta promise me you’re not gonna make fun of me**

12:17 am EST, you wrote:

**…..**

**Keith**

**Buddy**

**Have you met me?**

12:18 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**OK you can make fun, but I fuckign sware if you use this as blackmail, you are kickd out of my “The truth is out there” cryptozoology fan club.**

12:20 am EST, you wrote:

**You don’t have one of those.**

12:21 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**Not yet, dear Kaitlyn.**

12:21 am EST, you wrote:

**First off, my name is short for Katherine.**

**I hate it.**

**Don’t ever call me that.**

**I’m serious.**

12:22 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**Dually noted.**

12:24 am EST, you wrote:

**OKEY, so, what’s the problemo?**

12:28 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**I did a thing.**

**A bad thing.**

**A very, very bad and horrible thing.**

**A very, very, very bad**

(The Jersey Mullet is typing)

12:29 am EST, you wrote:

**I get it, Ernest Hemingway. Cut the crap.**

12:45 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**I kissed Lance.**

1:00 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**PIDGE**

**ANSWER ME**

1:30 am EST, you wrote:

**Dear**

**God**

**Are you**

**Are you for real?**

1:32 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**As a heart attack.**

**Which I may or may not be having right now.**

1:32 am EST, you wrote:

**KEITH DARWIN SHIROGANE**

1:34 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**That is not my middle name.**

1:38 am EST, you wrote:

**Don’t make this less amusing to me.**

1:40 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**KATIE**

1:40 am EST, you wrote:

**Sorry.**

**So you need my help because?**

1:45 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**I don’t know what to fcking do.**

1:50 am EST, you wrote:

**Keith.**

**I am sixteen years old.**

**I’m a lesbian.**

**What the hell makes you think I would know what to do?**

1:51 am EST, The Jersey Mullet wrote:

**…**

**Sheer desperation?**

1:55 am EST, you wrote:

**Ok**

**Let’s pretend I care for like, five seconds.**

**Tell me exactly what happened.**

**We can go from there.**

* * *

 

(Hunk and Lance, from Hunk’s phone)

11:00 pm EST, you wrote:

**LANCE**

**HE DID NOT.**

11:04 pm EST, Skyway Avenue wrote:

**I**

**SWEAR**

11:05 pm EST, you wrote:

**HOLY**

**FUCKING**

**I NEED A MOMENT**

11:07 pm EST, Skyway Avenue wrote:

**YOU need a moment?!?**

11:10 pm EST, you wrote:

**Right.**

**Sorry.**

**But I mean,**

**FOR FRICKEN SERIOUS?**

11:14 pm EST, Skyway Avenue wrote:

**FRICKEN**

**Y E S**

**I’M STILL DYING**

11:30 pm EST, Skyway Avenue wrote:

**HUNK**

**DUDE**

**DON’T LEAVE ME HANGING**

11:36 pm EST, you wrote:

**Sorry dude.**

**I had a thing to take care of.**

**BUT BRUH**

**BRUH**

**B R U H**

11:40 pm EST, Skyway Avenue wrote:

**I KNOWWWWWWW**

**I CAN’T BELIEVE**

**I MEAN**

**WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO NOW**

11:42 pm EST, you wrote:

**Pull a Say Anything?**

11:42 pm EST, Skyway Avenue wrote:

**H U N K**

11:43 pm EST, you wrote:

**Sorry.**

**Caught up in the romance, you know.**

**I say go for it.**

11:45 pm EST, Skyway Avenue wrote:

**But-**

**He did pull away.**

**He did RUN away.**

11:56 pm EST, you wrote:

**Well**

**Yeah.**

**But I mean**

**Maybe he was just nervous?**

12:00 am EST, Skyway Avenue wrote:

**Maybe.**

**Maybe it was alcohol.**

(message unable to view)

12:10 am EST, you wrote:

**Lance?**

**Bro?**

**I can tell you’re pretty upset.**

12:30 am EST, you wrote:

**Remember what we talked about.**

**You are worthy of happiness.**

√Read at 12:30 am

* * *

 

(Group chat with Hunk and four others, from Hunk’s phone)

10:48 pm, you wrote:

**CODE PURPLE CODE PURPLE**

11:02 pm, Nico Di Angelo jr. wrote:

**Uhhhhhhh**

**What?**

11:10 pm, you wrote:

**SHIT**

**WRONG GROUP CHAT**

**MAYDAY**

**FORGET YOU READ ANY OF THAT**

11:15 pm, Nico Di Angelo jr. wrote:

**If you had any idea how drunk I am you would not be worried about me remenbering this.**

11:20 pm, you wrote:

**THANK THE LORD**

**Aight please delete these messages from the chat and go as you were, gentleman.**

11:38 pm, Nico Di Angelo jr wrote:

**I’m skeptical**

**But….Oooookay?**

* * *

 

(Group chat with Hunk and three others, from Hunk’s phone)

11:30 pm, you wrote:

**WE HAVE A CODE PURPLE, LADIES AND GENTS.**

11:35 pm, Sistah Sistah wrote:

**HOLY SHITBUISCUITS**

11:38 pm, Mom S wrote:

**LANGUAGE**

**I WILL COME UPSTAIRS AND KICK YOUR SORRY ARSE RIGHT NOW**

11:40 pm, Sistah Sistah wrote:

**Srry mother dearest.**

11:42 pm, Mom L wrote:

**OH YOU FREAKING WILL BE**

**WHEN I GET HOME YOUNG LADY**

* * *

 

Keith woke up with a foreboding sense of dread. As usual, of course. But for some reason, this particular foreboding sense of dread seemed...a little too justified. Like Keith had done something absolutely terrible. Hmm. Let’s see.

He remembered a lot of hard lemonades. A lot. He remembered beer, too. Plenty of it. Perfect circumstances for making horrible, life-ruining decisions. What else, what else? Everyone was there. He remembered it was the first night of Allura’s ever important first night of the fest. Which was why there _was_ alcohol. The question was why was Keith drinking it? Sure, he could handle a beer or two, but he was usually a light drinker.

Lance emerged from the bathroom, looking absolutely radiant as always. He was brushing his teeth, and he stopped to give Keith a half-hearted minty smile. Did he….Did Lance and Keith talk, or something? That would explain. A lot. Wait a second. This wasn’t their hotel room! Where the hell-

“Drink this,” Donny scared the living shit out of Keith.

“WHO THE-oh. Hi, Donny,” Keith wheezed out. He stared at the concoction in the man’s hands. It looked like death’s beverage. He quirked an eyebrow, “and what, pardon my French, the everliving hell is that?”

“Hangover cure. Me mum swears by it. ‘Ere. Drink up,” Donny nudged the glass towards Keith, “uh, you’re no’ allergic to anything, are you?”

“Cat fur,” Keith answered.

“Oh, sorry. Guess I’d be’er retool the recipe then,” Donny blinked. Keith stayed silent, until he added, “it was a joke, ma’.”

“Hilarious,” Keith mumbled.

“Drink,” Donny commanded again.

“What exactly is in that?” Keith scrunched up his nose.

“Toma’o juice, celery, gatorade, and coffee,” Donny listed off the ingredients.

“You expect me to _drink_ that?” Keith demanded.

“I do. And you’re gonna,” Donny pushed it towards him.

“No. Sorry, not gonna happen,” Keith shook his head.

“Wha’? Are you afraid of somethin’?” Donny smirked.

“I’m not scared of anything,” Keith retorted. Lies. Lies. All of them. So many lies.

“Then prove i’,” Donny challenged.

“Give me the drink,” Keith snatched it out of his hands. The concoction smelled of beets. Rotting beets. Nevertheless, he forced himself through it. He gagged about nine times, but he made it to the other side of the glass.

“There ya go,” Donny patted him on the back, “how do ya feel?”

“Fine. It wasn’t that bad,” Keith produced another lie of lie-ness.

“Good. I’m makin’ toast, and Allura and the gang are gonna be ‘ere to drop off Shiro in a bit,” Donny explained.

“Wait, what?” Keith furrowed his brow.

“The band and Pidge are havin a girl’s day ou’. I think Hunk’s taggin’ along too, from wha’ I gather,” Donny filled him in, “so I guess it’s just the guys around ‘ere today.” So. All day. With Lance. Perfect. Why was Keith dreading it so much? Not even he knew. But he was determined to find out.  He could retrace his steps, go through the texts and-

The texts! Of course. He remembered a lot of texting. Keith fished through his backpack for his phone. His face fell as he read the horrors that transpired last night, including but not limited to the fact that he kissed Lance. The memory began returning, slow and fuzzy, rough around the edges. But It definitely was still there.  Blurry. But pleasant. And horrible all at the same time. Lance yawned, interrupting Keith’s thoughts.

“Oh,” Keith cleared his throat, “hey, Lance.”

“Hi, Keith,” Lance mustered up as much of a smile as he could.

“Lance, about last night…” Keith trailed off. These seconds stretched over hours and days and years, agony etched into each one.

“Yeah?” Lance was on the edge of his metaphorical seat.

“It was...We had a lot to drink, you know? And I think. It’s probably better to just forget about it, yeah? It was a mistake,” Keith’s words stung his throat, where other ones were trapped.

“Yeah,” Lance’s voice cracked. He was taken aback, “yeah. Right. Mistake. That’s all it was. All it’ll ever...Yeah.”

“Lance, are you okay?” Keith wondered aloud. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he could have said. But he didn’t know how.

“Yeah. Great,” Lance felt something crash land into his heart.

* * *

 

If someone told Pidge she was going to be sitting in the back seat of a taxi with the two coolest girls she’d ever met on her vacation, she’d have said something along the lines of ‘no. freaking. Way.’ But here she was, and way. Hunk, Shiro and Shay were in the other cab, on their way to Donny’s place. Honestly she wouldn’t care if they were taking a space ship over there. Pidge stopped to scold herself for being so totally star struck. She really couldn’t help it. Be cool, Katie. Be cool.

“So there I was, ready to deck this guy in the face, then my girl comes up and says ‘’scuze me, don’t you have somewhere else to be annoying’ and he said ‘excuse you indeed, I was in the middle of talking here.’ Well apparently that was absolutely enough for her so she just said ‘how fuckin’ blind do you have to be to think this chick is desperate enough to go out with you?’ Dude walks off, mouth agape, and needless to say she got more than a high five for that!” Plax had just finished telling a fuckboy’s tale.

“That is awesome!” Pidge laughed.

“Isn’t it just, though?” Plax agreed, “I tell ya, thank God for girlfriends.”

“Oh, we’re almost at Donny’s place,” Allura pointed out.

“Lou?” Plax flashed a devilish grin.

“Oh, good grief. Not another one of your ‘ideas’ is it?” Allura groaned.

“The air quotes hurt me, Lou. They _hurt_.” Plax gasped dramatically, “but, yes. Technically I do have what some may, if we split hairs, call an idea.”

“There is not enough Tylenol in the world for this,” Allura mumbled.

“Anyway,” Plax glared at Allura, “I’m sure we can all agree that Shay and Hunk are some smitten kittens as it were.”

“Did you seriously say smitten kittens?” Allura scoffed, “But yes. They do seem to have it pretty bad for each other.”

“Precisely. Which is why I say we help ‘em out, yeah?” Plax had a very Dr. Evil-ish look on her face.

“Help them out how, exactly?” Allura was almost scared to find out the answer. But when her best friend went on a tangent-

“We ditch them. Tell them to meet us at lunch, only tell them to meet us at a completely different restaurant. When they call us out, Say they must have just barely missed us, but while they’re there, they might as well grab a bite to eat,” Plax mapped out her wild plan.

“Plaxum, if I may say, you are an evil genius!” Allura laughed.

“You are on board with this?” Pidge demanded.

“I’m no match for her devious little schemes,” Allura sighed, “this particular one appeals to both my hopeless romantics and her need to cook up plans like this.”

“And that,” Plax linked arms with Allura, “is why we’re best friends.”

* * *

 

“Where the hell are they?” Hunk demanded. They’d been standing out in the cold for about fifteen minutes.

“I’m not sure,” Shay frowned, “but I smell something fishy.”

“I thought that was just the stench of this block,” Shiro joked.

“Maybe you should shoot Plax a text, see where she’s at?” Hunk suggested.

“It’s worth a try,” Shay sighed as she pulled out her cell. A teeny tiny panda charm dangled from the top of the case. A little swoosh emitted from her phone the text sent.

“And now we wait,” Hunk steepled his fingers.

“Knowing Plax, it’s going to be a spell,” Shay observed, “perhaps we should just go inside so we don’t freeze our butts off.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” agreed Shiro, “I don’t know about you guys, but I enjoy having my butt intact.”

“Can we please stop talking about butts?” Hunk groaned.

“Certainly,” Shay smiled, “but the point still stands. We’re getting the heck inside.” A swoosh protested from within Shay’s jacket pocket.

“Shay, your phone,” Hunk pointed out when Shay seemingly ignored the sound.

“Oh, thank you, Hunk,” Shay smiled again and pulled the light blue phone out, “it is Plax. That is strange, apparently she thought we were supposed to meet at the restaurant.”

“I sense trickery afoot,” Hunk declared.

“Knowing Plaxum, trickery is most likely,” Shay agreed, “she makes us go through a lot of wild hair-brained schemes. It’s a wonder Coran still signed her after the maple syrup incident.”

“The maple syrup incident?” Hunk repeated, interest piqued.

“Oh, yes. It was quite the feat,” Shay began retelling the event as she pushed open the revolving door, “so, Plax was working an internship at this big car dealership in New Jersey, and there was this big, big cabinet just filled with maple syrup bottles-”

* * *

 

Was it Keith’s imagination, or was Lance giving him the death glare? Hint: he was. Lance, of course, didn’t mean for him to notice, nor did he himself notice when Keith did. All the two of them knew for certain was that they were in emotional hell.

Thankfully, a knock was heard at the door, thus ending the deafening sound of silence. Donny, having had been in the midst of all the emotional tension, practically dove for the door, nearly falling down in the process.

“Shiro! Shay! Hunk!” he greeted very loudly.

“Hello, Donny,” Shay smiled.

“Not to be impolite, but where are the others?” Donny asked.

“There was a miscommunication. Apparently, we were meant to meet at the restaurant,” Shay explained, not wanting to bore Don with the skepticism and conspiracy.

“Bi’ of a strange miscommunication,” Donny observed.

“There are theories,” Shay laughed.

“Well, wha’ever the theories, time for a girl’s day out and a guy’s day in,” Donny seemed a bit less than enthused.

“Quick question;If it’s a girl’s day out, why is Hunk tagging along?” Lance wondered aloud.

“Lou’s insistence,” Shay explained, “according to her, Hunk is the coolest.”

“I would argue, but, I mean, Hunk is Hunk,” Lance interjected.

“Besides,” Shay continued, “I can’t ride in taxis alone.”

“Which is why you live in Manhattan,” Keith scoffed.

“Keith,” Shiro said in a warning tone. There was something there. A change in tone. They had to have talked the night before, Keith just didn’t know what about. He hoped he hadn’t fucked things up even further, as that was a very Keith thing to do.

“Never mind,” Keith sighed.

“I think it’s nice she prefers the subway,” Hunk defended, “in fact, maybe we could ride to the restaurant in one? Since taxis make you so tense?”

“It’s not the taxi that’s the issue. It’s the drivers,” Shay corrected, “but yes. That sounds lovely.”

“Good,” Hunk’s face split into a big, toothy grin. He had a smile that should come with harps in the background. He was such the smitten kitten, and Lance knew it. He shot his best bud a big thumbs up. Hunk only rolled his eyes.

“Not to be rude, but you two do have somewhere to be,” Shiro tapped at his wristwatch. He had a thing about being on time places. That thing was a stick up his ass.

“He is right,” Shay blushed ever so slightly.

“Yeah, we really should get going if we’re going to catch up to them on time,” Hunk agreed, though he shot Shiro a glare that could freeze hell over. Shay and Hunk wished everyone a pleasant day as they left, the door shutting cutting them off from the rest of the world. And then there were four.

“Well,” Donny clapped his hands together, breaking the long, awkward silence that had transpired, “who’s up for a movie?”

“I know I am!” Lance chimed in. The brothers murmured in agreement.

“Good! The hotel doesn’t have much of a selection in the movie regard, but I always bring along my faves,” Donny began sifting through his overnight bag, “I’ve go’ Breakfast Bunch, Pretty in Pink, Dirty Dancing, Footloose, all the classic Studio Ghibli movies-”

“How big is that fuckin bag?” Keith demanded.

“Big,” Donny chuckled, as he pulled out a DVD copy of the movie Big. Lance laughed. Keith wondered how much mileage that joke got back in the Crash Nebula days.

“You got Porco Rosso?” Keith asked.

“As a ma’er of fact, I do,” Donny grinned.

“Porco Rosso?” Lance used his Veto voice, “Try Spirited Away.”

“Overrated, if you ask me,” Keith scoffed.

“Well, fortunately enough, I did not ask you,” Lance pointed out.

“Right. What I should have said was, I don’t care for it. What about Footloose?” Keith crossed his arms.

“Footloose _is_ a cinematic masterpiece,” Lance agreed.

“Great!” Donny pulled out his copy, “Now then. Someone’s gonna hafta make popcorn, and I need someone to order pizza. Bacon and mushroom sound good to everyone?”

“As long as you’re not putting pineapple on that thing, I’m down,” Lance answered.

“What’s wrong with pineapple on pizza?” Keith demanded.

“Oh, sweet good lord you are joking, right?” Lance asked hopefully.

“Pineapple on pizza is excellent!” Keith argued.

“Good. Gravy. I think I may have dodged a bullet,” Lance gasped dramatically.

“Uh-huh. And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Keith put a hand on his hip.

“Oh, would you look a’ the time, it’s time for Keith to gimme a hand in the kitchen with the popcorn,” Donny grabbed a hold of Keith, “Kitchen. Popcorn. Now.”

“Okay, okay,” Keith surrendered. He let Donny drag him to the kitchen, like dead weight.

“Now,” Donny said, closing the kitchen door, “have ya though’ about my proposition ye’?”

“Not, um, I guess I haven’t quite come to a conclusion yet,” Keith scratched at his arms. Kissing cute boys kinda distract you from that sort of thing.

“Doors are a closing, lest ya forget,” Donny pointed out.

“I’m not gonna lie, I have no idea what that means,” Keith confessed, “but I’ll have an an answer by the end of the day. I promise.”

* * *

 

“This is my most brilliant scheme yet,” Plax declared, sinking her fork into her mac and cheese.

“You’re almost ready for your maniacal laugh,” Pidge agreed.

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Allura sighed, “this is one of your best yet. And it seems to be working seamlessly.”

“Not quite seamlessly,” Plax admitted, “I do think that Shay may be just pretending to go along with it.”

“That does sound like Shay,” Allura laughed.

“You guys seem really close,” Pidge observed.

“Yeah, totally. We do absolutely everything together. At the dismay of Coran, whom has nicknamed us ‘The Terrible Trio’,” Allura laughed.

“Lovingly, of course,” Plax added.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure,” Pidge smirked.

“Katie, do you want some of the best advice that I’ve ever been given?” Plax asked, patting the girl on the back.

“What is that, a trick question?” Pidge raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Plax laughed, “the advice is, and I may be paraphrasing a bit, ‘to live is very rare. Most people just exist’.”

“How on Earth does that apply to this situation?” Allura inquired, less of mockery and disbelief in her voice and more sheer curiosity.

“Because, Lou, we were not put on this planet to merely exist,” Plax explained, “we were put here to live.”

“And that involves harebrained schemes?” Pidge asked.

“But of course! Making mischief in all the right ways is an essential step to living,” Plax then winked and laughed heartily.

“She’s right, you know,” Allura concurred.

“Of course she’s right,” Pidge beamed, “she’s the brains of this operation!”

“How dare you!” Allura gasped dramatically. Her eyes gleamed and she struggled to keep a straight face. Plax responded by throwing a french-fry at her.

“Joke’s on you, I was hoping you’d do that!” Allura laughed maniacally as she flicked a pea at her best friend.

“This. Means. War,” Plax smirked as she tossed a spork at her.

“Okay, okay,” Pidge’s face hurt from smiling, “we should probably get out of here before we’re thrown out forcibly.”

“In true rock and roll fashion,” Plax pointed out, “but the small one’s right. I’d rather not get my jacket scuffed via a very large security guard.”

“You and that jacket,” Allura sighed.

“Excuse you, this jacket is _the_ jacket for a reason,” Plax defended, “it’s dependable, versatile, machine-washable, hand decorated and loved to death. Who’s gonna be there for me like this jacket?”

“I’m sure your girlfriend would love to hear this,” Allura scoffed, but she was still smiling.

“You know as well as I do that no blackmail is strong enough to break us up,” Plax pointed out.

“You’ve got me there,” Allura admitted.

“So then. The question is, where to next, ringleader?” Plax asked.

“Okay, okay, you _are_ the brains of this operation,” Allura laughed.

“Damn right I am. Now, I know the perfect place for all of us to go,” Plax’s voice dripped with excitement. In times like these, Allura had decided a couple years back, it was better to just sit back and enjoy the wild ride.

* * *

 

“So,” Hunk sighed, “we just missed them, did we?”

“We have been hoodwinked!” Shay declared.

“What did she say?” Hunk quirked an eyebrow, curious to hear the ridiculous excuse Plax had cooked up.

“That we may as well order and eat while we’re here,” Shay read, shock and interest void from her voice, “but if I had to guess, I think a bit of this story may have been fabricated.”

“I mean, this _is_ a nice restaurant, and I’m absolutely starved,” Hunk admitted.

“Well, while we’re here,” Shay shrugged.

“While we’re here,” Hunk agreed. Once seated, Shay began immediately looking over her menu, scanning for vegetarian options.

“I am going to have quite the firm talking to with Lou and Plax,” Shay announced, “veggie options are pretty scarce on this menu.”

“As well as they put together schemes, they don’t seem to be as great at thinking things through,” Hunk observed.

“Which is why they usually have me on their little adventures,” Shay chuckled, “I suppose they have to make do without me this time around.”

“I feel ya. I’m usually the voice of reason when Pidge and Lance’s plans go bad. Which is, hm, let’s see, about 90% of the time,” Hunk’s watched Shay’s eyes run across the menu. She had to admit, Plaxum had great taste. Literally.

“Hi there!” the waitress flashed a toothy smile, “What can I get you guys to drink this afternoon?” The two listed their drink orders without missing a beat. Guess they both had usuals.

As much as Shay hated to admit it, she actually was grateful to her band mates. Any way you slice it, she technically was on a date with a guy she’d been crushing on for quite a while.

“So, um, how’s life?” Hunk tugged at his shirt collar, “I mean, being in a band with those two seems pretty interesting.”

“Trust me, it is,” Shay laughed, “it’s always something new with the two of them. That’s really part of the fun though. You never know what to expect. I can’t exactly say that living with them is boring.”

“That’s how I feel with my friends, too,” Hunk smiled. He quickly panicked and added, “not to make the conversation about me, or anything. I mean, I just relate, is all. I don’t want to seem like a jerk, or anything.”

“No, no! You don’t seem like a jerk at all!” Shay practically shouted, “I actually think it’s nice. We both have very interesting friends.”

“Yeah,” Hunk smiled, “not to say that the two of us are uninteresting.”

“Not at all,” Shay grinned back, “In fact, you are the exact opposite of boring, Hunk Garrett.”

“As are you,” was this….Was this flirting? Was Hunk doing it right?

“Your drinks, sir, ma’am,” the cheerful waitress placed the drinks on the table.

“I propose a toast,” Shay lifted her glass.

“To?” Hunk found himself smiling again.

“To not being boring!” Shay answered.

“To not being boring!” Hunk echoed. They clinked their glasses together. Maybe Plax’s plan was working perfectly after all.

* * *

 

The four boys had crammed together on the small, stuffy couch that decorated the living room. The couch itself creaked and squeaked in protest, threatening to collapse under their weight, though it never did. They all warmed under a thick quilt that Donny brought on his travels. Keith could hear Lance’s breathing next to him. Skin was squished together.

All four of them had consumed more pizza than is healthy, or natural for that matter, for the average human. Red cups overflowed with sprite, sitting standby on the coffee table for when watching eighties movies became parching. Popcorn bits scattered amongst the floor, hopefully not too smashed into the carpet.

Keith listened to Lance’s slow and steady breathing. Slow and steady was good. It was what Keith needed, whether he was willing to admit it to himself or not. The two of them watched with rapt attention as the infamous angry dance scene reared its head. Many had tried to replicate the mood of this scene in recent years, but none came quite close enough to the magic that was this scene.

Ren is angry. Furious. At the town, at the mayor, at himself for not knowing exactly how to help. But the very fact that he can’t help, that he has no idea how to, makes the blow all the worse. He has no idea how to deal with it. So he dances. He dances, and lets his anger out. Though, probably not in the most productive way.

See, this had always been Lance’s favorite scene. The emotion, the drama, the passion. It all came together into something so perfect and just so _angry_. Lance had felt this type of anger, of not knowing how to help the people he cared about. He knew this anger all too well. When his family was going through the loss of his sister, when his best friend didn’t know how to deal with his future, when Shiro lost his dad, his arm, and to some degree, his brother.

This anger, it burned. It burned every inch of your body and refused to cease no matter how much you screamed at it. And Lance. He screamed. He screamed till his voice was hoarse and he couldn’t scream anymore, so he screamed in silence. He screamed in tears shed for the people he loved. Tears that burned his skin and were hot with fury. He screamed in jokes that were secretly cries for help because damn it! Damn it! He was hurting too. He was hurting but he always ached for other people more than himself and it was shit.

He screamed at how he wanted to pick a fight with Hunk and rip their friendship to shreds just to make his decision to go back to Hawaii just a little bit easier. He screamed at how Pidge thought he would ever, ever abandon her. He screamed at how there was nothing he could do now, nothing he could ever do to make his family truly heal. Not fully, anyway. He screamed at his inability to find words to help Shiro pick up the pieces and his inability to make Matt and Pidge laugh after they had cried so many hours over their father being diagnosed with likely terminal cancer.

And he screamed about Keith. About feeling things he wasn’t supposed to feel and seeing things that weren’t there. He screamed for being so selfish as to want something more than Keith could provide. Because they were so close, so damn close to something, anything, and it was just pulled out from under him and it wasn’t Keith’s fault but it wasn’t fair.

Lance had never cried at this scene before.

* * *

 

Plax and Allura had quite the surprise for Pidge. A jam session, in the trailer no less. Pidge had practically shot sunbeams from her teeth with how bright her smile was. She couldn’t believe it. She could not believe it. Jamming out with possibly the two coolest girls in New York? Nothing less than iconic.

“What song do you want to sing, Katie?” Plax asked, picking up Shay’s spare set of drum sticks.

“I-I get to sing?” Pidge squeaked out.

“Well, of course!” Allura grinned.

“But, you are the singer,” Pidge pointed out.

“We have a lot of time on our hands,” Plax explained, “I can play drums and guitar as well as I can sing.”

“Well, maybe not quite as well,” Allura smirked. She got a dramatic eyeroll in response.

“But I’ve never had any singing lessons,” Pidge protested, “I’m not that good a singer.” She was blushing. She could feel it.

“Katie, you don’t need to be a singer to sing,” Plax pointed out, “singing is one of the most basic human skills. Anybody can do it, and if anybody can do it, surely the great Katie ‘Pidge’ Holt can.”

“Are you sure?” Pidge asked.

“Sure I’m sure! In fact,” Plax shrugged her jacket off her shoulders, “I’ll let you wear my jacket while you sing.”

“Really?” Pidge grinned. She put on the jacket. It was a few sizes too big, but it did not matter in that moment.

“You look great, Pidge!” Allura encouraged.

“Thanks! This is going down as one of the best days of my life!” Pidge gushed.

“So far,” Plax booped her on the nose, “now. I ask again. What song would you like to sing first?”

“Uh,” Pidge hesitated, “do you guys know any Smashing Pumpkins?” She flashed another toothy grin as Plax nodded. Everything was so perfect. Who knew that in just a couple of hours, it was all going to go straight to hell.

* * *

 

“Hunk?” The word came distant and far off. Hunk’s face was drained. It occupied what could only be described as a look of pure helplessness. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. And to think, he had just been laughing moments ago. Not a care in the world. He both hated and envied that version of himself for his ignorance. The word kept repeating. His own name, unfamiliar and faint in the distance, like he was underwater.

The call had come between entrees. He had been laughing when he answered. That horrible, horrible laugh that he would give anything in the world to take back. His entire world had shifted in the two minutes he was on the phone. He heard his name again. Hunk. He was underwater. He was drowning. The surface. He had to reach the surface.

“Hunk?” Shay asked again. Her face was worried, “Are you alright?”

“No.” Hunk’s voice came out faint and hoarse, “Momma, I. I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll call you later, but I have to go now.”

“What is wrong?” Shay furrowed her brow. Hunk pressed the “end call” button on his phone.

“Shay,” Hunk whispered.

“Yes?” This was getting scary. Well, it was already scary. It was getting scarier.

“My grandmother just passed away,” Hunk finally managed to say.

“Oh, Hunk, I’m so sorry,” Shay bit her lip. She didn’t even know what to say.

“I’m out of grandparents,” Hunk said plainly, “I’m never going to have another grandparent again. And I wasn’t even there with her.”

“That’s not your fau-”

“No, but that’s the thing. It’s not my fault she passed away. But it is my fault I’m not there. I wanted to go to a school on the mainland, and for what.” His voice was calm. Calculated. Scary.

“But-”

“Shay, I think we need to go.” Hunk tried waving down the waiter.

“Is there anything I can do?” Shay asked, though she knew the answer.

“Not that I can think of,” Hunk pulled out his credit card.

”I understand,” Shay nodded. Hunk’s face was unmoving. Impossible to read. He usually wore his heart on his sleeve, emotions plain on his face. But for the first time in a long time, emotions bled together and mixed like spilled paint. Into a mess. Into nothingness.

* * *

 

Lance was sitting alone on the terrace. He watched the blur of color. His face was locked in a thin, small scowl, almost more like a soft pout.

“Hey,” Keith smiled as he sat down next to Lance.

“Hey,” Lance hugged his knees.

“You seem like something’s bugging you,” Keith observed. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to stop whatever it was he was doing, to retreat into the cocoon of emotional constipation he had been locked in.

“Yeah,” Lance’s voice cracked.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keith sucked air in his cheeks.

“No,” Lance shook his head.

“Okay,” Keith sighed. This would be your cue to leave, Keith. But he didn’t. Instead he said “do you want me to stay?” This time Lance nodded. The silence lasted for quite a while. Then Lance spoke again.

“Can I ask you a question?” Lance managed.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Shoot.”

“Do you miss college?”

“Hmm,” Keith hesitated, considering the question carefully, “I do.”

He truly did. The classes were nice, his career was being furthered by learning new techniques, his roommates were always nice. But none of those were the reasons, the real reasons, he missed it. The real reasons involved beer pong games with a guy he convinced himself he hated because that was easier than love. Love was frail. Breakable. Not replaceable. His mother was living proof of that.

“That’s what I thought,” Lance sighed.

“Why?” Keith asked, fearing the answer.

“Well, when,” Lance paused, “when my sister died, I was so scared to go in the water. I was terrified. I’ve always loved the ocean, but in that time, I hated it. I wanted it all to dry up so I didn’t have to think about _it_. But I couldn’t avoid it forever. The ocean...It was a part of me, you know? And I had to get back in.”

“Oh.” the words _‘why are you telling me this’_ hissed angrily at the back of Keith’s throat. He knew why.

“I couldn’t get in alone though. I couldn’t. I couldn’t feel the water. But my older brother was brave. He held my hand, he held back tears. He led me the way. And when I finally got in? I realized how much I’d been starved for it,” Lance smiled. He turned towards Keith, “It was something I just needed to do. But I couldn’t do it alone.”

“Yeah,” Keith scratched the back of his neck. In a softer voice, his throat now screamed _‘why this? Why now? Why me? What have I ever done besides hurt you?’_ “thanks,” he added. Words were prisoners to his lungs, as he refused to set them free. Lance didn’t get it. His heart was in the right place, it really was. And Lance’s advice applied better than he would ever know. But Lance didn’t understand. Keith wasn’t afraid of going back to college. He was afraid to care. He was afraid to love.

* * *

 

When Hunk came through the door, the mood of the whole room shifted. No one knew what to say. What could make anything better. They’d all gotten a text, four single words that said more than an encyclopedia. “My grandma. She’s gone.”

The girls had rushed back to the hotel room. Pidge’s face had been red and puffy. Everyone in the group had been doing their fair share of crying, in fact.

All Keith could bring himself to think was _“this is why”_ and he hated himself for it. But he couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t do this ever again.

Hunk simply requested to speak with Lance. Alone. On the terrace, as they couldn’t be disturbed there. Lance only nodded. The sound of the glass door sliding shut was deafening compared to the silence. Hunk was the first to speak.

“Lance.”

“Yeah, Hunk?” Lance rocked in the chair.

“My grandmother is dead,” Hunk said.

“Yeah. I know.”

“I feel awful.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Lance croaked. There wasn’t. He knew there wasn’t, and it killed him.

“Yeah.” Hunk opened his arms wide. What he needed right now was a hug. And if that was all that Lance could do to help, well, it was better than nothing. He squeezed his best friend tight. He didn’t even know Hunk was crying until teardrops hit Lance’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” Lance whispered. He stroked Hunk’s hair. They stayed like that for a while. It helped. Just a little, but it helped.

“Lance.” Hunk interrupted the silence.

“Yes?”

“I have to…” Hunk trailed off and the tears came again.

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t.

“I have to move back home after college.”

“I know.” Lance’s voice cracked.

* * *

 

Keith was going to wear a hole in the rug. This was torture. It was absolute torture. Everything was horrible. The gang was all gathered in the living room. The air was thick with sorrow. He couldn’t tell them now. Except...He had to do it at some point. Just not now.

He met Lance in the kitchen. Lance was leaned against the wall. His arms were crossed. He was...Thinking. That was good. Thinking is better than feeling.

“Hey, Keith?” It was more of a question than a greeting.

“Yeah?”

“Now might not be the best time but um,” Lance stared at his shoes, “did you uh, think about what I said?”

“I did,” Keith flinched at his own words. This was twisting at his gut. He had to say it. He had. To, to, to hold it back.

“Are you okay?” Lance asked. He didn’t expect Keith to care this much. Of course, he didn’t expect a lot of things out of Keith before this trip started.

“Yeah. Just. Thinking,” Keith lied.

“Yeah,” Lance seemed to be desperately avoiding eye contact, “it’s just so horrible. Hunk is gonna be a wreck when we get back.”

“When you get back.” Keith flinched again. He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t gonna lie. And silence is just as good as lying.

“What?” Lance blinked.

“I’m,” Keith swallowed thickly, “Donny has asked me to go on tour with him. And I...I’ve decided to go. We leave tomorrow night.”

“Oh.” was all Lance could manage to say. It occurred to him exactly why they call it heartbreak.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has a happy ending I swear  
> Now then, I make my epic return from my long hiatus, and promise weekly updates  
> Also I'm working on another klance and a Heith wooo (more on that next chapter note)  
> This Chapter song (Porcelain by Marianas Trench) aka death:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJol7EsWHmI  
> My tumblr in case ya wanna come check me out:  
> moonsofmercury.tumblr.com  
> As always, thanks a lot for reading and all your wonderful comments! :*


	10. Chapter Ten: Requiem

_Stop this train_

_I wanna get off and go home again_

_I can’t take the speed it’s moving in_

_Honestly, won’t someone stop this train_

 

When a friend’s loved one dies, you find yourself at a loss. There’s nothing you can do or say that can make anything better. And it kills you, and it killed Lance, to see his best friend in pain like this. Hunk was in emotional hell and everyone else was in purgatory.

“Okay,” Hunk’s voice was monotonous as he spoke into the phone, “I-I know. No. _No_. I’m not gonna...I don’t know. Momma. No. I can manage. Yes, I promise. Okay, okay. See you soon.”

“Is everything….” Lance trailed off.

“No,” he answered, “I’m going home for the funeral. I can’t... stay for the rest of the vacation. I’ll...I’ll have to meet up with you guys back in Portland.”

“When do you think-” Shiro started.

“I don’t know. It’s going to be a couple of weeks, at least,” Hunk sighed heavy. The only noise to be heard was Hunk tapping at his phone. When the silence grew thicker than smog over a polluted city. He finally broke it, “I need to leave tonight, and the closest available flight is in Newark about two hours from now. I need a ride.”

“Take my car,” Shiro offered, digging the keys out of his pocket.

“I’ll drive you,” Lance said.

“Lance…” Hunk protested.

“I know you probably want to be alone,” Lance clasped his hands around Hunk’s, “but you can’t leave Shiro’s car in New Jersey. I know I can’t make this better but just. Please. Let me do this for you.”

“Okay,” Hunk nodded slowly.

“Keith, you should go too,” Shiro nudged his brother forward.

“Why?” Keith squeaked out. He probably came off harsher than he meant to.

“In case the car breaks down again,” Shiro explained.

“But. I mean, it’s your car,” Keith’s face was near impossible to read. But his eyes flickered with a faint, pleading glint. _Why me? Haven’t I done enough harm?_

“Keith.” Shiro placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Whatever the reason, Keith knew his big brother well enough to know it was important.

“Thanks, Shiro,” Hunk said solemnly. Shiro patted him on the back and tossed the keys to his beloved car to Lance.

“May the Schwartz be with you,” Shiro chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood.

“And also with you,” Donny responded, earning a strange look from everyone in the room. He justified it, adding “wha’? I was raised Catholic.”

“We’d better, um,” Hunk cleared his throat, “we’d better get going if we want to make the flight.”

“Hunk?” Shiro asked, opening the door for the trio.

“Yeah?” Hunk looked at his shoes.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, okay?” Shiro tilted his head.

“I’ll,” Hunk hesitated. He managed to force a small smile as he said “I’ll try.”

* * *

 

Lance kept his eyes locked desperately on the road. The entire car was dead silent. The three had made an unspoken pact not to break this agonizing silence. People needed to be alone with their thoughts. Not one of them saw fit to make light of the situation. Hunk laid across the back seats, staring at the ceiling. He was barely breathing. He rarely blinked. He seemed to be having a staring contest with himself, and he was losing.

Music played softly from the stereo; no musicals or movie soundtracks. Just Lance’s playlist on shuffle, the only sound keeping the silence from becoming deafening. Though Hunk couldn’t really hear it from the wayback. Not that it would make much of a difference if he could. The entire world was spinning too fast, and Hunk was at a complete stop.

It didn’t matter what anybody could do or say. His grandmother, someone who had always been there, was gone. Funny how you know people who are older than you, people you look up to, are going to die some day but you’re never really prepared for when it happens. You just count on them being there until one day they aren’t. Suddenly, your entire world falls apart.

This was a feeling that the three of them knew all too well. But in different ways. So it was like being stuck in some kind of limbo where they were all somewhere in being aware of exactly how the other felt but not truly understanding it. So they sat in silence with wild thoughts becoming static.

“We’re stopping for gas,” Lance announced. His voice seemed louder than usual. Keith and Hunk nodded, acknowledging the statement while still resting firmly in their dissassociative states. Lance pulled up to a pump, listening to the familiar screech of the tires. This car wasn’t going to be with them for many more road trips. No matter how desperately Shiro clung to the absurd notion that he was gonna drive this car for the rest of his natural born life.

Lance climbed out of the car, leaning his head halfway into the doorframe as if to ask if anyone needed anything.

“I,” Hunk pulled himself up, “need a breather.”

Lance nodded and mustered a small smile.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom real quick, if you don’t mind,” Keith practically had to kick open the rusty door.

“Why would we mind if you had to piss?” Lance raised an eyebrow.  
“Whatever,” Keith shrugged. He swatted a moth off his neck as he walked into the building. The cashier looked at him with a mix of disgust and concern. Ah, yes, Keith’s favorite combination.

The thing was though, when he got back from the bathroom, the person behind the counter snarled at him. Was it the tattoos? The mullet? Was he giving off the gay vibes again? Well, whatever it was, he was never gonna see this person again in his life, so who cared? He simply quirked an eyebrow. And that’s when he saw Hunk.

Hunk was standing in the corner of the gas station, spinning the little rack of greeting cards around and around. His shoulder’s slumped, and his eye’s had lost their glimmer. He looked so very...well, un-Hunk. Keith went against his better judgement and walked over to talk to him. Because apparently Keith was not done screwing things up.

“Uh,” Keith rubbed the back of his neck, “hey.”

“Hey,” Hunk echoed, slumping his shoulders.

“You look…” Keith hesitated. He had to be extremely careful with how he phrased the rest of his sentence, “awful.” _Nice, Keith, real nice._

“I know,” Hunk sniffled.

“My brother did tell you not to be too hard on yourself,” Keith pointed out, “and, I mean, Shiro isn’t right about very many things, but this...this is important. You’ve gotta stop beating yourself up.”

“Keith?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah?”

“That’s kind of impossible for me right now,” Hunk said bluntly. He tapped a finger on one of the cards.

“I know,” Keith blew a strand of hair out of his eyes.

“I mean,” Hunk spun the display once more, “I could have gone to college back home. I could have. But no, I wanted to go to school in Oregon like some kind of big shot. I counted on making friends here but I...I didn’t count on finding a family too.”

The words cut Keith deep. Of course they were all one big family, but Keith didn’t know how deep exactly the bond ran. Until now, that is.

“Hunk…” Keith struggled to find the right words.

“And then I was like, well maybe I could stay in Oregon. Maybe after college I could do one year here and one year there, like a switch off type thing. And then I was all ‘well that is ridiculous, they are my family’ and then I had four years to decide so I didn’t-” Hunk breathed, “I didn’t worry about it then. But then I only had three years. Then I had two. And now my grandmother is dead and I-”

“Hunk!” Keith shook him by the shoulders.

“What?” Hunk asked.

“I think...I think I need to get you a bag of funyuns and a soda. That sound good?” Keith asked. Hunk nodded slowly. The cashier continued staring. Finally, he approached her to check out.

“Do you have a problem, ma’am?” Keith asked, quirking an eyebrow, trying really hard not to use his ‘I’m gonna start a mcfucking barfight up in this piece’ tone.

“Nothing, nothing,” she snorted, “I just didn’t know the fashion of having a  receipt stuck to your ass was back in season.” the wha-Keith twisted to see, and, sure enough, a long yellow receipt from the gas station days before was hanging off his back pocket. Had Lance not noticed? Or had he noticed and was just pulling a classic Lance. Keith glanced at the car, where Lance was losing his shit. Keith glanced back at Hunk, who was holding back tears of laughter. So much for a great epic pep talk. Nevertheless, Keith was satisfied.

Fifteen bucks worth of junk food and a gas refill later, they were all back in the car, back in this mood. But then, the silence was broken.

“Keith, would you trade me a funyun for one of those brown chippy things from your chex mix?” Hunk asked.

“Knock yourself out,” Keith answered, handing him the bag.

“Thanks. And, uh, Lance?” Hunk bit his lip.

“Yeah?”

“Can we pull over? I need to make a phone call,” Hunk tapped at the window.

“But we’re kind of in a rush,” Lance pointed out.

“It is,” Hunk sighed, “really important. Can you let me worry about the time frame?”

“As your best friend, I shouldn’t be letting you worry about anything,” Lance retorted, “but um, yeah. We can pull over.”

Hunk practically launched himself out of the car as it stopped. He pulled out his phone and quickly dialed. He was making impeccable time.

“Hello? Hi mama,” he spoke into the phone softly, “yes, we’re...we’re on our way. Soon, mama. But listen. I need to ask you...and I know, I know this is really touchy but. When exactly is the funeral?...I see. Well, I was wondering because….Well, we have to drive all the way to Newark. No, no, we’ll be fine. Yes, I am sure. But it um...It’s not a very high quality airline is all, and I know how you worry. I’m not saying that at all! I was just thinking. It may be a bit better if I could fly down there from Oregon instead. Run home, grab a few things. I know. But I’ll be home for awhile, you know? I need a toothbrush, make sure the Holt’s are okay to watch Apollo…” He sucked air in through his cheeks, “A few days. I swear. Thank you very much. I love you with all my heart, mama. See you soon.” Hunk hung up the phone, and climbed back into the car without another word.

“What was that?” Lance asked.

“Turn the car around,” Hunk said, “we’re going back to the hotel.”

“Okay,” Lance quirked an eyebrow, “why the sudden change in mood?”

“Sometimes all you need is a minor pep talk and a bag of Funyuns to cheer up a little bit,” Hunk stated, clicking in his seat belt, “I figured I’d finish our vacation, since I’m gonna be on the island for a while.”

“Glad to hear it, buddy,” Lance squeezed his shoulder and started the car back up. He caught Keith’s glance in the rearview mirror, and smiled gratefully. Okay, so maybe Keith hadn’t fucked up royally. This time.

* * *

 

(Keith and Pidge, from Keith’s phone)

**10:45 pm, you wrote**

Change of plans. We’re coming back to the hotel.

**11:00 pm, Gremloblin wrote:**

Really? To….Grab a couple of things?

**11:05pm, you wrote:**

Hunk decided not to go.

Until the end of the vacation.

**11:06pm, Gremloblin wrote:**

Oh? Is he feeling better?

**11:06pm, you wrote:**

Yeah.

A little

**11:07pm, Gremloblin wrote:**

Good.

**11:07pm, you wrote:**

Yeah.

He said something about

I dunno

Wanting to cherish the rest of the road trip.

**11:09pm, Gremloblin wrote:**

Good.

**11:10pm, you wrote:**

I had packing to do anyway.

So like,

Minor silver lining.

**11:13pm, Gremloblin wrote:**

Packing? We’re not leaving for like two days…

**11:13pm, you wrote:**

Well.

Did I not tell you?

Donny wants to take me on tour.

**11:14pm Gremloblin wrote:**

What?

**11:14pm, you wrote:**

We

We leave tonight.

**11:15pm, Gremloblin wrote:**

I see.

I’ve gotta go.

Call my dad.

Tell him I love him

Enjoy your packing.

**11:15pm, you wrote:**

Katie…

You’re not mad at me, are you?

I would have told you.

Pidge?

Read @ 11:17pm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insert Lenny face here  
> okay no but really I am so sorry for not updating for six thousand years. I now update this* fic every wednesday. No exceptions, until I run out of fic  
> my tumblr:  
> moonsofmercury.tumblr.com  
> The song for this chapter (crying)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PBwK127K7UQ  
> *this as in I have two major projects underway.  
> See y'all Friday, If you want


	11. One Last Reunion

_A long December and there's reason to believe_

_Maybe this year will be better than the last_

_I can't remember the last thing that you said as you were leavin'_

_Now the days go by so fast_

Pidge sat cross-legged on the floor of the RV, drumming her fingers along the dusty spine of one of Donny’s old vinyls as the owner played with his guitar. He seemed to be trying to play a chord that didn’t exist, and he didn’t take any notice of the teen’s loud sighing. Pidge huffed and collapsed into a depressed little heap on the floor. It was the last morning they’d all be together. Keith was going off on his cross-country adventure, Hunk was leaving for his family’s, everything was an absolute mess. Katie tried not to let it get to her, she really did, but-

“Wha’s the ma’’er, squirt?” Donny asked, placing his guitar on the stand.

“Life sucks,” Pidge sighed.

“Amen to that,” Donny laughed, attempting to lighten the mood. Pidge didn’t smile. It was at this moment that Donny realized that he was terrible at lightening the mood.

“We’re back!” Lance shouted, kicking the door shut behind him, “And we brought all sorts of road trip snacks. You guys oughta be real hungry, what with all the thrashing hotel rooms and whatnot.”

“Jalapeno cheese curls!” Donny gasped, rushing towards the grocery holders, “You guys are dolls!”

“They were always your favorite, you know, way back when,” Allura said softly.

“Guess I haven’t changed much, huh?” Donny chuckled. Allura screamed _‘no, I was the one who changed on you, ditched the band, ruined everything’_ in her brain, but she simply nodded and smiled.

“Donny?” Allura asked.

“Yeah, ma’?” Donny asked.

“Nevermind,” Allura shook her head.

“Wha’?” Donny looked puzzled.

“Nothing. Forget it,” Allura waved it off, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

“C’mon! Ya can’t jus lead me in like tha’ and no’ expect me to be curious as to wha’ you were gonna say,” Donny pointed out. Allura only shook her head, so he added, “It’s gonna bug me the whole tour.”

“Fine, fine,” Allura surrendered, “I was just thinkin’. I know it won’t be the same without the rest of the band but...I don’t know….maybe we could have like, a final jam session before my performance tonight?”

“Are you joking? Of fuckin’ course we’re gonna do tha’!” Donny shouted, “Oh! Let me jus finish tuning my guitar! Drum kit isn’t set up quite yet, bu’ you can be on mic and I can be on guitar, just like old times!”

“Only on one condition,” Allura said, holding up a finger, “you use your acoustic so that we can _really_ jam like old times.”

“You guys are gonna love this,” Donny winked.

* * *

 

Soon enough, Donny’s RV became a concert of sorts. Allura was better on guitar, admittedly, but her voice was fantastic. Pidge swayed back and forth to the beat of the song they were playing. It was kind of on the older side, probably older than at least Pidge, if not then older than Keith. Allura sang the lyrics with her chest, giving it everything she had.

“ _Well I ain't often right but I've never been wrong, Seldom turns out the way it does in the song. Once in a while you get shown the light In the strangest of places if you look at it right_ ,” Allura sang. She was smiling brightly. They were smiling. All smiling. Nobody was thinking about the future, or how Keith really should be packing, or how Donny was still slightly (slightly) bitter about the breakup. This moment was perfect. Absolutely perfect. And a moment that somehow couldn’t be spoiled by anxiety or depression? It was all Keith had ever wanted and more.

* * *

 

“Hey,” Keith greeted Pidge. She was sitting on the sidewalk, staring at the huge-ass RV taking up five parking spots.

“Hey,” she echoed. Pidge hugged her knees.He took a seat beside her and just stared at the RV for a while.

“Look,” Keith sighed, “I know you’re probably fuming about me not telling you about Donny, and I have to admit, dick move on my part.”

“Keith, I’ll be fine,” Pidge forced a smile, “really.”

“Uh-huh,” Keith rolled his eyes, “you’re about as convincing a liar as Shiro is. Now, fess up, how are you really feeling?”

“You caught me,” Pidge sighed. She took a deep breath in, “look. I know that conversation you and I had, you really meant it. And I know that just because we’re not together in a ‘bro can you pass me the remote’ sense doesn’t mean that we can’t still be close but...I dunno. I guess I just wasn’t expecting everyone to take off so quickly.”

“Hey.” Keith put a hand on Pidge’s shoulder, “I’ll talk to you every day.”

“You promise?” Pidge sniffled.

“Promise. Even if it’s just to tell you the shitty decisions that I may or may not have made throughout the day.”

“Okay,” Pidge giggled.

“And, I mean, it’s not like I’m gonna be gone for the whole tour anyway. I’ve gotta come back some time. For, you know, my cat. Make sure Shiro hasn’t killed her. Or my mom, or my brother, or you.”

“Yeah, okay, okay,” Katie rolled her eyes.

“Or…” Keith lowered his voice and took off his flannel, “Or my favorite flannel.”

“For cereal?” Pidge asked, “I never see you without this damned thing on! Are you sure you won’t, like, explode?”

“As a symbol of our friendship, I bestow upon you my flannel,” he said ceremoniously, handing her the item of clothing. Pidge didn’t take the item. Oh no. First, she grabbed Keith, and hugged him as tightly as she could.

“You know you’re just as big of a dork as your brother is, right?” She asked.

“I’ve been informed,” Keith nodded.

* * *

 

It was four forty five pm, approximately six hours before Keith had to leave, Hunk was still scheming. It was in his blood! He couldn’t help it. Even still, Lance looked at him quizzically.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lance asked.

“Plotting. Getting two lovestruck kids together, the usual,” Hunk said nonchalantly.

“Hunk, no,” Lance groaned, “we’ve been over this. He’s not interested. Remember that movie we watched? ‘He’s just not that into you’? Because we watched it a gazillion times at the dorm, and yet, here you are, scheming notebook out, acting as if you’ve never seen it.”

“He likes you, dude. Trust me. I see it. You two look at each other the way that the ocean looks at the stars,” Hunk kept his voice low.

“Blehguhgeh!” Lance scoffed.

“Even if he doesn’t like you, and I’m wrong, which I’m not, what’s the harm in telling him at this point? Now that he’s leaving, I mean.”

“Well...I could come up with a good reason. I could! You just, um, you sprung the question on me far too quickly.”

“You’ve got nothing,” Hunk smirked.

“Hunk.”

“Lance.”

“Even if I was considering this, which I am _not,_ for the record, how would we even-”

“I have a plan,” Hunk announced dramatically, holding up his notebook, “so horrible and ill-conceived it just might work.” Lance looked at his friend with deep anguish, but he made a private deal with himself not to complain too much. Hunk needed a distraction, and it just happened to be that the distraction was currently Lance and his romantic escapades.

“Remind me again why we’re best friends?”

“Cause we know each other better than anybody else. Probably more than we each know about ourselves, in fact. To start over with a new best friend now? Inconceivable!”

“Well, we do have movie tastes in common. I’ll give us that.”

“You’re damn right. Now, let’s catch that Keith.”

* * *

 

“What’s the most Keith and Lance song you guys can play?” Hunk asked.

“How the hell are we…” Plaxum pinched the bridge of her nose, “How are we supposed to know what ‘Klance’ songs are?”

“I have compiled a list, first of all,” Hunk said, handing Allura the notebook, “over two hundred songs are on there, and I’m willing to buy that you guys know at least one of them.”

“WHEN DID YOU HAVE TIME TO-” Lance started.

“Bruh. Why did you think I chugged all that coffee last night. Anyway, second of all, if you’re gonna mash up their names, it’s gotta be Leith. That way, you can call stuff a ‘Leithal weapon.”

“Dear lord, Hunk,” Lance buried his face in his hands.

“Actually, we can play a couple of these,” Allura chimed in, “though I would recommend number 77.”

“Excellent choice,” Hunk grinned, “I was hoping that you’d pick that one.”

“What’s number 77?” Lance asked, “I swear, if it’s a sappy pop ballad…”

“Not at all,” Shay said, “this is actually a classic. We could play it for you, should you like.”

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, “I wanna know what the hell I’m getting into.”

So play it they did. The band was a little rusty at some parts, which Shay had said was to be expected, considering they hadn’t played it together in many months. And Lance really, really wanted to hate this song. He did. He wanted to shut it down, let the guy of his dreams get away, and move on with his life. As you do. Unfortunately, the song was absolutely amazing, and Lance couldn’t help but fall in love with it. Dammit.

“So,” Hunk said when the song had concluded, “here’s the plan. You guys open with it, and announce it’s from Lance to Keith. Suddenly, the crowd parts, and Lance approaches Keith, holding a bouquet of bachelor buttons, Keith’s favorites, I checked, mouthing along to the lyrics.”

“Wow,” Allura swooned.

“Pretty great, huh?” Hunk asked.

“Yeah. Who knew it was so easy to plan your best friend’s utter demise?” Lance said sarcastically, “I still can’t believe I’m going along with this.”

“Oh, calm down. It’s not a big deal. If you really like someone, you should tell them, no matter the consequences. FOR LOVE!” Hunk declared.

“Oh really?” Lance smirked, turning to Shay, “Hey, Shay, Hunk has had this bonkers enormous crush on you for like, six months!”

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Hunk cried out, while Shay turned beet red and her face behind her hand.

And thus began the greatest indoor high speed chase of all time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday guys. Hoo boy, i can't believe that this fic is almost over. Well, there's always the prequel  
> Here's the song for this chapter (A long December by Counting Crows)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1D5PtyrewSs  
> The song Donny and Allura sing (scarlet begonias by the greatful dead)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OrIRE8Hzl7c  
> If you like this fic, maybe check out my other fics, Paper Mache Hearts and Roll with the Punches (more to come)  
> Come say hi on tumblr:  
> moonsofmercury.tumblr.com


	12. The Perfect Plan

_I’ve got troubled thoughts_

_And a self-esteem to match_

_What a catch, what a catch_

_And all I can think of is the way I’m the one_

_Who charmed the one_

_who gave up on you, who gave up on you_

 

It was nine fifty nine pm. Lance was dressed in his tuxedo shirt and the nicest jeans he owned, hair styled in a way that made Lance never want to trust Pidge around a straightening iron ever again. The bouquet was secured in Allura’s spare guitar case, hopefully not getting too mussed up. Everything was accounted for. Well, almost everything.

See, what they had not accounted for was the concert being delayed slightly do to minor technical difficulties.

“C’mon!” Lance groaned, “there’s gotta be something we can do!”

“Keith, we’ve go’’a go,” Donny pointed out, “my manager’s no’ gonna like this.”

“But,” Hunk huffed in protest, “you’ve gotta stick around! Just for the first set!”

“Hunk. Admire your enthusiasm. And there’s nothing more tha’ I’d want than to stay ‘ere.. Bu’ seriously. If we don’t ge’ a move on, my manager’s gonna fry my ass.”

“You…” Allura tried thinking of a way to distract them until the amps on stage were fixed. God knows how long that would take but…

“I’m so very sorry, Ally, bu’ I’m on thin ice with my manager as it is. One more late arrival to a show an’ I’m toast,” Donny insisted. Allura nodded. She was giving up? _She was giving up._

“I’ll call you guys as soon as I get cell service,” Keith said, pulling them all into a group hug. It was more affection than Keith had ever received, let alone inflicted upon himself. Good lord, what were feelings doing to him? When he let go, he shared a pained smile with the group and picked up his bag. _Somebody, anybody, Lance, stop me_ , Was all he could think. But nobody seemed to want to take up his telepathic offer

And then, he was walking away. Lance had to do something, he had to. But his feet were planted firmly to the ground, a little puff of air escaping his lungs as he watched Keith walk away. It was probably for the better. Lance was better off without all of these feelings clogging up his heart. He didn’t want to run his fingers through Keith’s hair, he didn’t want to kiss him softly as the song played, and he didn’t want to fall...to fall...Aw, hell, who was he kidding. He had already fallen. Just a little bit at a time.

They were already pretty far off, so naturally, Lance chose the route of chasing them down like an angry elderly neighbor. He barely, barely caught up to Keith and Donny as they were boarding the RV.

“Keith!” Lance wheezed out, catching his breath.

“Lance? What the hell, man?” Keith asked.

“You,” Lance said as he took a deep breath, took Keith’s wrist in his hand, “you’ve gotta stay.”

“Lance.” Keith said sternly

“Please. Stay. We’ll all miss you,” _Coward,_ Lance thought to himself.

“I’ll miss you guys too, Keith responded, “but I’m...I’ve gotta go on this trip. I’m sorry. I’ll come visit though, I swear.”

“Flowers!” Lance shrieked.

“Huh?” Keith furrowed his brow.

“Flowers! There were flowers, and-and a song, and-” Lance sputtered, making a desperate reach for Keith’s hand. Lance held his slender fingers tight.

“You’re not making any sense,” Keith huffed.

“Today, lad!” Donny shouted from within the vehicle.

“Lance I…” Keith broke free of his grip, “I have to go now.” Keith turned around, to face the door, and prayed silently that Lance couldn’t hear him crying, or see his shoulder jump from the sob he choked down. He began climbing the stairs.

“Some days are diamonds, some days are rocks,” he heard Lance’s voice say.

“What?” Keith asked, turning around.

“Some doors are opened, and some rpads are blocked,” Lance said in a shaky, uneven breath. He was holding his phone, reading something off of it, “Sundowns are golden. Then fade away. But,” he took a deep breath, “if I never do nothing, I’ll get you back some day.”

“Keith?” he heard Donny call again, though now in a more concerned tone than frenzied.

“Cause you’ve got a heart so big, it could crush this town, and I can’t hold out forever, even walls fall down,” Lance took Keith’s hand again, gently.

He was really singing now, albeit off key, “All around your island, there’s a barricade. That keeps you out the danger, that holds in the pain. Sometimes you’re happy, sometimes you cry. Half of me is ocean,” he laced his fingers between Keith’s.

He locked stares with Keith, blue eyes swimming with hope, fear, and an abundance of love, “half of me is sky. But you’ve got a heart so big, it could crush this town and I can’t hold out forever. Even walls fall down,” He pulled Keith in closer, and Keith laid his head to Lance’s chest and laid his ear over his jack hammer heartbeat, “some things are over, some things go on. Part of me you carry, but part of me is gone, but you’ve got a heart so big, it could crush this town, and I can’t hold out forever, even walls fall down.” Lance concluded the song by kissing Keith on the top of the head.

“You missed,” Keith said, pulling away from the embrace.

“Huh?” Lance asked.

“You missed my lips,” Keith said. He was grinning. And crying. Just a little. He stood on his toes and cupped Lance’s face in his hands, feeling tears soak his palms. He let out a small laugh as he leaned forward and kissed him, slow and gentle. And suddenly, Lance was kissing back. He snaked his arms around the mulleted boy’s waist, pulling him in even closer.

“Uh, yeah, hi,” Donny interrupted. The boys turned their heads to face Donny, still holding onto one another, “I take this as a nice way to tell me you’re no’ coming?”

“Sorry Donny,” Keith said earnestly, “I really am. No, really. I apologize for everything. Wasting time, and money, and you’re still standing here, so I’m gonna apologize in advance for whatever your manager does to you.”

“Aw,” Donny’s eyes softened, “don’t apologize. You’ve clearly got your own adventure right here. But yeah, seriously, I’m happy for you too, go''a haul ass, see you lads next time.” He then proceeded to sprint to the RV, and peel out of there as fast as he could. With Keith’s backpack still in tow, nonetheless. Keith was never gonna get back his copy of Astoria, and he thanked God he’d only brought a grocery bag worth of stuff.

“Classic Donny,” Lance shook his head. Keith laughed. And then he kissed him again.

* * *

 

“Y’all ready to go?” Lance asked, sliding into the driver’s seat.

“I am definitely ready!” Pidge hollered, pulling out a magazine.

“Ditto,” Shiro sighed.

“What McMuscles over here said,” Hunk said, stroking Apollo.

“Let’s get this show on the road!” Allura laughed, putting on her bright pink heart sunglasses.

“Okay, now. Where are the keys?” Lance asked. Keith answered his question immediately, leaning into the passenger doorway and dangling the keys in front of Lance’s face.

“Not happening,” Keith protested, “I’m driving first.”

“Babe. You’re the greatest but no. Shiro said I could drive first, remember?” Lance made a grab at the keys. Unfortunately, Keith moved them out of grasp.

“Sorry, pretty boy, I’ve got the keys, which means shove over,” Keith smirked.

“I know something that’ll make you hand ‘em over!” Lance declared.

“Oh, yeah?” Keith demanded, “Try me.” Lance leaned forwards and kissed Keith. He managed to snag them while Keith was off defense.

“Ha!” Lance snorted.

“Seriously, guys,” Pidge groaned, “are you ever gonna get less goopy? It’s been what? Almost a year?”

“Nine and a half months and counting, bitches,” Keith corrected, sliding into the passenger seat.

“We will never become less goopy! Let the whole world know the goop! I love Keith, and I want everybody to know it!” Lance declared, shouting it out as if he were announcing to a crowd with a blinding smile.

“Oh my god, babe,” Keith blushed furiously. Lance kissed him on the cheek as he stuck the key in the ignition. The shitstain rattled in protest, but nevertheless started.

“Tunes!” Lance cried out, pulling out his ipod shuffle.

“Please, for the love of all that is holy, not the song I know you’re gonna play,” Hunk begged.

“It’s a road trip tradition!” Lance pointed out, “We’re going to my place of birth, dammit! And we will honor her!” The car pulled forward as he pushed play. The bright, happy tune’s first notes blared through the phone speaker, causing the entire car to erupt into groaning.

“Greetings loved ones, let’s take a journey,” the song opened. Lance shimmied his shoulders to the beat.

“I. KNOW A PLACE, WHERE THE GRASS IS REALLY GREENER, WHOA-OH!” Lance roared. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Warm, wet and wild, there must be something in the water,” Keith sung along.

“Not you too!” Hunk gasped, “Resist! Resist!”

“Sippin’ Gin and Juice, laying underneath the palm trees,” Shiro chimed in.

“Boys break their necks, tryna creep a little sneak peak at us,” Shay joined.

“Not my own girlfriend!” Hunk shrieked, “Betrayal!”

“You could travel the wo-orld!” Allura grinned, “but nothing comes close to the golden co-whoast!”

“Once you party with us,” Pidge danced in her seat, “you’ll be fallin’ in love, whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh!”

“CALIFORNIA GIRLS WE’RE UNFORGETTABLE DAISY DUKES BIKINIS ON TOP!” The entire car shrieked, “SUN KISSED SKIN SO HOT WE’LL MELT YOUR POPSICLES, WHO-OH-OH-OH-OH-OH!” Hunk sighed, but stilled smiled. This was gonna be a long, _long_ car ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it concludes. God this has been such an amazing journey  
> Here's the song for this chapter (a song i love by a band i hate):  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_lkJkwnXQZ8  
> And the song Lance sings (Walls-Circus by Tom Petty aka don't look at me i'm emo)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_aoEIA38kTQ  
> I made the "soundtrack" of this fic on spotify:  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/jetlistenstomusic/playlist/3qsHUSNunbRIG2tG57wsCo  
> I made a twitter where i'll be posting exclusively writing stuff in case y'all want to stay up to date on my latest projects (@theplanewrites)  
> Also my Tumblr (moonsofmercury.tumblr.com) and i'm now tracking the tag "fic: sitmon"  
> For one final time, thank you all so much for reading this fic.


End file.
